


Wild Roses

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Kings, Romance, This story contains sexual content between married couples.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2007-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 79,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can love bloom between close friends? Or will maturing prove to be the thorn that drives them apart? A story of friendship and love in the Greenwood. Early 3rd Age.<br/><br/><strong>The Greenwood Prince Series #6 </strong>- While this story is part of the ongoing Greenwood Prince Series, it is set earlier than all the other stories, so it works well as a stand alone as well as part of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing The Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Author's Note:** Many people have helped me with this story along the way. Many thanks to Wimsey, Nea and nautika for their help in earlier drafts; and much thanks to my current betas for the final drafts: Aearwen and Ignoblebard. 

**Warning:** This story contains sexual content between married couples.

**Wild Roses**

__

_**By NiRi**_

 __

  


**Chapter 1**

_****_

__

_**

Changing the Rules

**_

__

_**Greenwood The Great** _

_**Year 310 Third Age** _

_**Summer** _

"Cellinn!"

She stopped, her feet firmly planted, but she refused to turn her eyes towards the speaker calling her name. Cellinn crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her teeth in anger. How dare he try to talk to her after what he had done! "NO, Legolas! I do _**not**_ want to forgive you! I do not ever wish to speak to you again!" Her anger had her trembling, and she hoped the harsh words would be sufficient to make him leave her alone.

The sound of his steps halted and she heard his slight intake of breath, then he began in a placating tone that grated on her nerves. "But Cellinn, the stablemaster said it was a minor injury. It wasn't my fault — that fox came out of nowhere!"

She spun around, her loose hair swishing out behind her as she turned and stared at him. He had folded his arms and his eyes sparkled with indignation. _**He**_ had no reason to be _**indignant**_ _!_ "Not your fault? You took _**my**_ horse, without my permission, and ran her nearly to death, going break-neck over jumps—"

"She's a better jumper than Echereb," he interrupted, as if that settled everything!

She gaped at him a moment. "Gwaloth is the better jumper, so you thought you'd just take _**her**_ , without _**asking**_ , on some foolish stunt, nearly getting you _**both**_ killed…" She let out a small scream of frustration. "I tire of your thoughtlessness! When we were children, you shoved those nasty creatures of yours in my face, and even now, you do not show me the respect due a friend! It never stops! Just last week, my favorite dress was ruined thanks to your showing off! I've had enough!" With each word, he had flinched back. Good! "I am done. As it is obvious I am not important enough for you to consider my feelings, I do _**not**_ wish to be your friend anymore." Her voice broke on the last words, but she raised her chin so he would know she was serious. Even as angry as she was, pain flared in her chest saying the words, words she meant. She tamped it down with her ire. She had had enough.

His gaze wavered, indicating he was shaken by her words. "You really mean it? You will end our friendship because a fox startled your horse?"

Oh of all the arrogant, stubborn... There was no point in rehashing it again. He would never see the truth of what he had done, so she nodded once, firm, decided. "Yes! I told you last week that if you did something stupid once more, I would never speak to you again, and I meant it!"

"But Cellinn! You _**always**_ say that, ever since we were little you have threatened to stop speaking to me for such things, yet you always forgive me in the end. We have always been friends..." Legolas looked confused and tilted his head as he gazed at her, waiting for some explanation.

Cellinn pressed her lips together in determination. She would _**not**_ let him talk her into forgiving him this time. She had had enough of his pranks, his teasing, his irresponsibility and slimy creatures. "I may have said it before, but I really meant it last time. Now, leave me alone!" She turned back around and stared at the small pink flowers on the ground in front of her, fighting back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.

"How was I to know you really meant it, when you have said it so many times before?" His voice sounded almost sorrowful, but she would not give in. He would never cease taunting her if she did not stand by what she said, no matter how much it hurt to do so.

She kept her eyes on the ground before her. "It does not matter, Legolas. I am through with it all. I suggest you find someone else to torment, for it will no longer be me."

And with that parting phrase, she walked away, heading towards the sound of giggling coming from further down the garden path. It was time she made a place for herself among the other young ladies. Her mother had urged her to do so since she was a child, but she had never listened, insisting on playing with the only boy her age. Now, she saw him for what he was. Males were dangerous, irrational creatures! They pushed the limits of friendship in order to show off their 'skills' for Elbereth knew what reason! Even stole _**her**_ horse! _S_ he was sick of it all!

It was time she began to act more like the lady she was. She would reach her majority next spring; she was no longer a child, and it was time she started to act like an adult. It was unfortunate that a certain irritating prince had not come to the same conclusion when he had come of age almost two years ago.

-o-

Legolas stood in shock, watching her walk away from him. Cellinn was his best friend. She could not just up and decide to change the rules of their friendship all of a sudden! Could she? Sure, he had done some stupid things over the years, and she complained when she was the brunt of his pranks or they affected her adversely, but she always forgave him later. And she always joined in wholeheartedly in planning against others. And they always had a lot of fun. They had always been close, and he could not fathom his life without her in it.

_I shouldn't have taken her horse..._

She drew further away without glancing back, and with her every step, her rejection stung him more sharply. His fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms as he realized she was not going to turn back around and tell him it would be alright, that she would forgive him again. It was true; she was no longer going to be his friend - the only real friend he had. The only other elves his age were giggling, silly maidens, and he never understood them. His Cellinn alone was different.

_His Cellinn..._

He spun on his heel and fled from the garden and the churning, confusing emotions stirring inside him. He needed to get away, far away from the one who had cut him so deeply. He darted out of the garden gate and down the lane.

-o-

As she walked towards the other ladies, her heart ached, and Cellinn had to fight the urge to run back to Legolas as she had done so many times before. Unable to stop herself, she peeked over her shoulder, and gasped to find he had just disappeared. He _**never**_ gave up that quickly. He must have believed her...or did not really care.

_Good,_ she told herself. But it did not stop the ache that pulsed in her chest. Doing the right thing or not, she had still lost her best friend today. Her feet slowed as she continued towards the sound of giggling females, and she frowned. Somehow, even with all pain and fear his dangerous stunts and irritating pranks caused her, she knew from the few occasions she had spent time with them that the other young ladies would not be as much fun as a certain mischievous, and terribly handsome, young prince.

She slowed her steps even further, stopping to sit on a bench placed under an oak. She dropped her head into her hands, and despite her resolve, she let her memories take her back twenty or so years before...

_"Come on! No one is looking!" Legolas motioned for Cellinn to follow him._

_She glanced at their parents, seated some distance away on a much larger blanket than the one allotted to she and Legolas. The adults had seemed only too happy to agree to let the elflings have their own picnic a ways apart from them in the small meadow. The small basket, just for them, contained roast fowl, chunks of hard cheese, crusty bread, and almond cakes. There was even a flask of watered-down wine, though she suspected it was really just brambleberry juice. Her gaze drifted from the laughing adults, who were too caught up in their talking to notice the two elflings, and over to the horses._

_The picnic had been Queen Eirien's idea, but their mothers let them choose the location. Legolas and Cellinn agreed the glade where the mares and foals grazed would be the best possible place to spend the day. It was near the King's Halls, within walking distance, and their parents had agreed. The warmth of the spring day and the scent of new growth made them all a little giddy, and they had laughed and pointed out different aspects of the scenery along the way._

_When they arrived, the elflings had set up their picnic site as close to the horses as possible, which was not too close, since the mares herded their new babies away from them. Cellinn eyed the colorful wildflowers growing amid the grasses and longed to collect and braid them into crowns, but Legolas had his own plans for the meadow. Those plans involved convincing a young foal to come to him of its own free will._

_She even now doubted he could get any of the protective mares to come to him, let alone one of the skittish foals. But she knew he was determined. She had not heard the conversation that had filled him with this desire, but he told her of it often! If you could call a new foal from its mother, could get it to let you run your hands over its neck and back, if you could place a kiss between its eyes, then that foal would be yours and a special bond would form between you._

_Rolling her eyes, she stood up to follow him through the tall grasses towards the mares and foals._

_"Get down!" Legolas hissed at her, crouching low to the ground. Like a wild thing, he crept up on the very suspecting horses. Many of the mares raised their heads high, snorting and blowing as they looked with much suspicion at the small elf easing towards them. The small foals, most less than a week old, moved uneasily around or under their dams. Cellinn giggled. She loved it when the babies skittered under their mothersâ€™ bellies._

_A small, bay mare whinnied a command, and the group whirled, trotting away.. Legolas sat up looking rather annoyed and turned reproachful eyes on her. "You scared them!" he accused._

_She rolled her eyes. It seemed to her that if a foal was to choose you, it would be better to approach them outright, where it could see you, and not crawling on the ground like a badger. She turned away from her friend, having decided she was going to win over a foal before he did. Walking nonchalantly towards the group of horses, she began to sing, keeping her voice pitched soft._

_The mares ignored her, but the foals eyed her as if she were a giant wolf on the prowl. They hid behind their mothers, not letting Cellinn get a good look at them. It frustrated her, for how could she pick which one she wanted if they kept hiding? She moved around the group trying to see them, but the foals darted under tails or necks or bellies, keeping their dams between them and the perceived danger._

_"That isn't going to work either," Legolas said, walking up to her, upright and like a normal elf should walk._

_"Galass, I told you this would never work."_

_"It will," he assured her. "We just need to work together."_

_Cellinn turned her head to look up at him. He had grown taller than she again. "How?"_

_  
"I think letting them see us like you did is a good idea. I also think singing to them might work. Arandur sings to his horse all the time."_

_"But they just stare at us and the foals hide!"_

_"And that is where my idea comes in." He grinned at her, and then sat down in the grass, his back to the horses. "Sit down and ignore them." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down._

_She felt very confused by this sudden change, and even more so, when Legolas began plucking flowers and singing softly. Well, it might not draw the horses, but at least she could make some flower chains. She began to hum along with him, recognizing the song he sang. For a long while, nothing happened, and Cellinn forgot about the horses._

_Her fingers wove the flower stems into a golden crown, which she placed on Legolas's head. He grinned at her, one corner of his lips pulling up into crooked smile that caused his dimple to show. Then he puffed out his chest and making a face like his father, one long stem held in his right hand as if it were the king's intricately carved, oak staff. She giggled, and turned her attention to a crown for herself._

_She had just tucked another stem into the chain, when something tickled her ear. She brushed at it, and continued her braiding. She did not really notice the flowers that dropped from Legolas's fingers._

_"Linn," he whispered. She raised her head and looked at him. "Behind you!" He moved his eyes to gesture at something behind her._

_Turning just her head, a little fearful of what she might find, she came face to face with a curious dark brown filly with a tiny white star on her forehead. The soft, dark eyes set in a lowered head blinked at her. "Oh, she's darling!" she whispered, reaching out a hand._

_"Don't..." But the warning was too late. The filly scrambled away from her reaching hand and back to a safe distance from the elflings in the grass. Legolas sighed. "Now we have to start all over," he complained, but she could see he was not as upset as he pretended to be; he was grinning ear to ear._

_They resumed their chain making and singing, and this time, it did not quite take as long to draw their quarry. This time, three foals, the filly along with two colts crept forward towards them._

_"When they get closer," Legolas whispered, "just hold up your hand. Don't actually try to touch them. Let them come to you."_

_"All right," she whispered back._

_The filly, having come to no harm from the strange creatures, was bolder this time. The colts dogged along behind her, much more cautious. Soon, Cellinn felt another tickle at her ear, and she giggled, but did not move. Then a soft nose touched her cheek and rubbed against her ear._

_The filly lipped at her hair, and she turned to look at the foal, keeping her hands to herself. "Hello there, little one." The filly snorted in her face and resumed nuzzling in her hair._

_"Linnaew," a soft, amazed whisper drew her attention back to Legolas. One of the colts had overcome his fear and was taking stock of her friend a little less gently than the filly investigated her. She smiled as the black colt butted Legolas's shoulder with his head. "Hey!" he laughed._

_As she watched, he held up a hand, but did not reach for the colt. After a minute, the tiny muzzle found it, sniffing it curiously before lipping at Legolas's fingers. She raised one of her own hands and before long her own fingers were being explored. She took her cues from Legolas, who had much more experience with horses than she did, as he was allowed to ride under supervision. She had not had much interest in riding up until now, but as the filly became friendlier, and she stroked the soft neck and face, Cellinn decided she wished to have her own horse. This horse if it was possible._

_"Well look at that!" a voice called, and they glanced up from their fuzzy companions to see their parents gazing at them with smiles on their faces. "Looks like the youngsters earned themselves the privilege of caring for a horse," the king stated, looking proud._

_"Oh, I don't think Cellinn needs a horse!" her mother gasped. Eitheliel did not think young ladies should be caught up in such masculine pursuits._

_"Please, Naneth?" Cellinn pleaded, leaning her face against the filly's forehead. "Oh please!" She turned her eyes upon her father, but he was already nodding._

_"Let her have the horse, my love. It will teach her much responsibility." He nodded to where Legolas sat, looping his arms around the colt;s neck. "She will need such skills." Her father gave her mother a look Cellinn did not understand._

_"And I can have Gondram?" Legolas asked looking up at the king with his arms still around the colt's neck._

_Thranduil nodded with a laugh. "Is that what you will call him? Gondram?"_

_"Well," Legolas snickered, "he has a head as hard as a rock!"_

_They all laughed, and then the king looked at Cellinn. "And what will you name this lovely lady? She will be a beautiful gray like her dam when she gets older."_

_She thought for a minute, and then noted again the tiny white star on the filly's forehead. "Ithildin," she decided, "because she will shine like the moon or a star." She stroked the tiny muzzle, marveling at how soft it was. The filly closed her eyes and let her head drift down when Cellinn's fingers moved to rub the tiny ears._

_Something plopped into her lap, and she reached down to move it away, but instead of a branch or flower, her fingers encountered cool, bumpy skin. She looked down, blinked at the toad in her lap, and screamed. She jumped up, but Legolas was already running, scattering the mares and foals as he headed for the tree line, laughing as he went._

_Making sure the toad was no where near her feet, she planted her hands on her hips and stared after him. "Legolas Thranduilion! I am_ **never** _speaking to you again!"_

_An hour later, she plopped down beside him, the offense forgiven and her anger forgotten. She laid her head on his shoulder, giggling as the foals nuzzled her hair._

Cellinn wiped the tears that had slipped unbidden down her cheeks with a handkerchief her mother insisted she always have on hand, and stood. She glanced back once more to where Legolas had stood, but his absence, his uncharacteristic giving up, emboldened her. With determination, she continued down the garden path to the group of young ladies and tried not to wince at Ninglorwen's patronizing welcome. Somehow she would endure the giggling and chattering, and even Ninglorwen's disdainful looks. Maybe she would even come to enjoy their company, though she doubted it.

-o-

Legolas ran towards the fast-flowing creek, stopping when he reached a large oak tree, and pausing only then to shimmy up it and settle into the large crook created by three large branches meeting at the trunk, making a safe place for two to sit in comfort. He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his folded arms across them and releasing a sigh.

But sitting there alone felt wrong. This was _**their**_ tree. They had discovered it, and its hidden crook, as small elflings scarcely big enough to climb into it. Many hours they had spent here, coming almost every day, laughing and talking, sitting and just watching the stream flow by, sharing secrets and comforting each other through childhood sorrows. She should be here laughing at him as he told jokes or tossed acorns at unsuspecting elves who wandered by. But she was not, so he buried his face in his arms and sulked, allowing all the emotions to swirl inside him.

He was coming to understand his heart — feelings he had long felt but not truly understood. They had motivated his actions, caused him to do things to gain her attention. And for what? It had all gained him nothing. She would no longer be a part of his life. The hurt within him turned to anger.

He climbed down the tree and paused to run a finger over the roughly carved initials in the bark, marking the tree as theirs. He had carved them there when he was only a small boy, after obtaining the tree's permission. With determination, he pulled a small dagger from his belt, and touched the tree again. He shared his loss with the old oak and obtained the answer he needed. He scratched out the carved letters, apologizing to the tree as he did so.

The tree whispered comfort to him, saddened that it might never see the two happy elves sitting amongst its limbs again. Its leaves rustled and the branches creaked in sorrow as he walked away. Guilt joined the hurt and anger in Legolas's heart. The tree would not see him again for some time.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. The Space She Asked For

_**A couple months later…** _

"Prince Legolas!"

Legolas paused. It would be rude for him to ignore the lady, but he really wished to be left to his own wanderings. "Lady Ninglorwen." He nodded to her when she curtsied.

"It is a lovely day, is it not? Too lovely to spend alone." She smiled prettily at him, lowering her eyes, then glancing back up through her lashes. Why did ladies do that? He found it quite distracting; it always made him tongue-tied. "Perhaps we could walk together."

Having no good excuse for _**not**_ walking with her, as he had been headed in the same direction as she through the garden, he inclined his head. Of all the maidens he had to run across, why did it always have to be this one? He had long avoided her, but in the past months, it was as if she purposely put herself in his path! Yet, she always seemed surprised to see him, so he supposed it could be coincidence.

His mother's training nudged him to offer her his arm. She beamed up at him as she took it, letting him lead her along the path. But her fingers were too bold, lightly caressing small circles where they rested on his sleeve, making him uncomfortable. This one liked to touch too much. She chatted away about mundane matters that held no interest for him, but he found himself unable to politely excuse himself. So he forced a smile and nodded politely, not really listening to her nattering.

They had been walking for about ten minutes when he felt eyes on him. Glancing up, his gaze collided with Cellinn, standing under a tree not far up the path. She looked as startled as he felt, and he lowered his eyes, uncertain of what to say or do. Of all people to run into in such a situation! He tried to pull slightly away from the maid at his side, uncomfortable with how it must appear; but Ninglorwen's fingers tightened on his arm, holding him close to her side.

"Oh look!" she exclaimed, ignoring Cellinn and pulling him from the main path and down a trail darkened by an arbor covered in ivy. He started to glance back towards where they had left Cellinn on the main path, but Ninglorwen picked up her skirts in her other hand and hurried forward, tugging him along. "Listen! I hear water!"

He let himself be led along the trail. After all, Cellinn had not spoken to him in several months. She had kept her promise, avoiding him at all turns. Several times, he had thought of approaching her, but then he would remember her anger and his pain. The latter more than anything kept him from her. He had no wish to reach out only to be rejected by her again.

A small gasp returned his thoughts to the present. He found himself standing beside a small fountain in an isolated nook. Ninglorwen's fingers had slid down his arm until her fingers gripped his. She looked up at him with a small, charming smile. "Isn't this a romantic place?" she asked breathlessly. Fluttering her lashes at him, her thumb lightly traced down his palm, sending a shiver down his back.

Legolas gulped. He did not like the way she looked up at him so expectantly. He did not like her touch or the odd sensations it caused in him. And he especially did not like that they were now quite alone in a secluded part of the garden. Such would be considered highly improper. "We should return to the main path." His voice sounded strange, strained and slightly hoarse.

But Ninglorwen moved closer, facing him, one hand settling on his shoulder, the other gripping his fingers and bringing them to rest at her waist. Now he felt beyond uncomfortable. He felt her bosom brush against his chest, and his breath seemed to still even as his heart raced. "Don't you want to kiss me?" she whispered. She pressed closer, lifting her face to his, eyes fluttering...

Legolas stood transfixed, his eyes on her pretty red mouth. She was quite lovely, and his body hummed at the suggestion, but, inwardly, he felt appalled at his reaction. He did not want this! Not with _**this**_ lady. But he could not bring himself to move. What was wrong with him?

He watched, frozen in place, as her lips moved closer. Her breath brushed against his mouth…

Above them, a bird called out, startling him to action. He stepped back, tearing away from her grasp, causing her to stumble forward. He stood a few steps away, glaring down at her hurt expression, breathing hard. "You presume too much, lady."

Furious at both his traitorous body and her, he spun on his heel, leaving her there without a backwards glance.

-o-

Cellinn sighed and moved away from the chattering young ladies in the garden. When she had ended her friendship with Legolas over the summer and began socializing with the ladies her age, she had thought she realized what she could expect. She had known that her life would be much less exciting, but she had not been prepared for the insanity of the other maidens. Their reaction to her joining their group had been…well, insane!

All five females in the group had either just reached their majority or would do so in the next year or two, and their only focus was on finding a suitable mate. The fact that a certain prince was the only male within fifty years of their age (Cellinn was sure it had more to do with his title than his age) resulted in him being the most frequent topic of conversation, and pursuit, especially by Ninglorwen. _**That**_ lady brought out the worst in Cellinn, requiring her to frequently bite her tongue to prevent her saying something scathing and unladylike in reply.

Because Cellinn had been Legolas's best friend, she was pounced upon for information. Was he courting anyone? Interested in anyone? Could she pass along this or that information to him? Could she bring them one of his hairs? One of his shirts? One of them, blushing, had even asked her to get some of his small clothes!

The worst had been when Ninglorwen had given her a fake smile and asked in a sweet tone if Legolas had ever kissed her. Cellinn had been horrified; the other lady had seemed pleased at her response, giving her a smug smile, flipping a long blonde lock over her shoulder and watching her with those calculating green eyes. Cellinn had never hated anyone in her life, but Ninglorwen came close to driving her to such an emotion.

Cellinn found all the questions and requests to be quite irritating, and oft times distressing. Of course, the group of young ladies was very disappointed to learn that not only had she ended her friendship with Legolas, but she had no desire to speak of him at all. Any reminder of the loss of their friendship was too painful, something of which Ninglorwen took advantage by bringing up the prince frequently and giving elaborate accounts of her encounters with him. Cellinn suspected much of what the other lady shared was greatly exaggerated, but having seen Legolas's eyes on Ninglorwen often enough since their adolescent years, she could not help but wonder if he now pursued the haughty lady. For all Cellinn found her annoying, Ninglorwen was lovely to look upon with her shining blonde hair, flashing green eyes, and her easy charm. But the lady had a coolness to her that at times greatly disturbed Cellinn. Ninglorwen only cared for Legolas's looks and title! Not that Cellinn cared, or so she tried to convince herself.

So, now she sat on the edge of their latest chatter, wishing for anything other than the squealing and giggling over how handsome 'the prince' was, or whom he had danced with at the last feast, or walked with in the gardens. She found their prattle more revolting than the slimy critters Legolas forced upon her in their childhood. At this point, Cellinn would gladly restore the friendship between them, except that he had made himself scarce.

Legolas had not spoken to her since that day, and that hurt her profoundly. She had thought at the outset that he would at least approach her once more about their friendship, but he did not. The few times she had seen him, as soon as he realized she was near, he had averted his eyes and disappeared, twice in the company of Ninglorwen. Cellinn was unsure how to handle the emotions _**that**_ caused within her. She did not understand them. What she did understand was that she missed her best friend terribly.

Another squeal from the group of maidens caused her to roll her eyes and stand. She could take no more of their nonsense! She had tried for weeks to fit in and befriend them, but it was not going to happen. Without a backwards glance, she left the group and headed for the gate and the creek.

As she strolled beside the babbling brook, she realized she had not been to their tree since that terrible day almost two moons ago. She increased her pace almost wishing to find Legolas perched within the now leafless branches.

She stopped underneath the large oak and leaned her head against the trunk. There was no sign of him, but just being near their tree again helped to soothe her sore heart. She reached her arms around the trunk and opened her mind to the tree. She was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion which came from the ancient oak. The tree grieved the loss of the friends and their friendship, and that meant Legolas had been here.

Cellinn moved around the tree, trailing her fingers over the bark to a certain side of the great trunk, and froze when she encountered something new. Where their initials had been so carefully carved by a young Legolas, there was nothing but deep scratches, marring the letters so that she could not see them at all.

Pain shot through her. Dropping to her knees, she wept, great sobs wracking her frame. She had not cried over the loss of their friendship after that first day, but now, seeing it so blatantly defined in the bark of the tree, her heart broke and she wept for a long time.

The sun had begun to sink when she stood and bid the tree farewell. She could not come back here; the loss was too great. Wiping her face with her handkerchief, she squared her shoulders, determined she would move on beyond the loss...somehow. Deep in her heart, she knew it would take a long time to heal, for the memories of a laughing golden-haired boy sitting in the tree would haunt her for a long, long time.

-o-

Legolas ducked and spun around, bringing his practice blade up to block Arandur, whose wooden knife bore down on him. The blades thumped together, but he could not hold the block under Arandur's assault. His older brother's experience and use of his greater weight forced Legolas to release his knife, leaving him with only one.

Arandur stepped back, allowing Legolas to retake his defensive stance. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, his brother taunted him. "Come now, little brother. Saelvathor will not accept you into training if you cannot do better than that!"

Legolas moved in, slicing towards Arandur's gut. But instead of making contact with a blocking blade, his knife met empty air. His brother had twisted around out of the way, coming up behind him while he stumbled at the loss of expected contact. A wooden blade came to his throat, and Legolas yielded with a deep sigh.

Arandur released him and eyed him with a look of concern. "Legolas, you have not fought so sloppily in a long time. Is something wrong?"

His brother had been away for three moons with the Home Guard. He had only arrived back at the halls two days ago, and Legolas had not seen him until last night. Wanting to improve his skills with blades, he had asked Arandur to spar with him today. Arandur had agreed, though Legolas knew his brother would rather be with his wife after being gone for so long a time. Arandur and Minuialwen had only been married for a few years and were still considered newly wedded. As such, tended to spend much time alone.

Legolas appreciated his brother taking this time with him. He and Arandur had never been very close, but when he needed him, his brother was always there, usually to get him out of trouble. He felt unsure whether to confide in Arandur as a friend about his troubles with Cellinn. Would Arandur tease him? Or help him understand the new emotions he was trying so hard to deal with.

Legolas decided to take a chance and answered honestly. "Actually, yes, but I'm not sure how to explain it."

Arandur eyed him for a moment, then sighed. "Does it have something to do with the fact that I have not seen you with Cellinn since I've been home? Did you two have a fight?"

Legolas lowered his eyes. "Not exactly." He paused, and then spit out the words. "I-I borrowed Gwaloth and a fox startled her and she slipped and hurt her leg. When Cellinn found out, she said she did not wish to be my friend anymore." He took a deep breath and looked up at his brother sadly. "She has not spoken to me since, though I have not approached her either. It's been months now."

Arandur studied him for a moment, then asked, "That is all? Or is there something else bothering you?" His eyes narrowed. "You aren't seeing Ninglorwen, are you? There are rumors…"

Legolas blanched. "No, I'm not seeing Ninglorwen." His voice sounded as cold as he felt. "Those rumors are not true!"

"Glad to hear it." Arandur looked relieved. "That one…" He shook his head.

Legolas agreed. The lady was full of herself and her position in the court due to her father's closeness to the king. He was well aware the lady pursued him, but he had no interest in _**that**_ lady.

"So what bothers you, brother?"

Swallowing, Legolas dropped his eyes again. "I…It hurts, Arandur. I miss Cellinn terribly, and…"

"And you finally realized you care for her as more than just a friend?" His brother smirked when his head jerked up in shock.

"How…Wh…" Legolas gasped in disbelief and started to turn away in embarrassment, his cheeks heating. He hated these new emotions and their affect on him!

Arandur stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Legolas, you are no longer a child. It was inevitable that you would have feelings for a lady, and the fact that it is Cellinn? Well, I'm not surprised is all. Indeed, I've seen it coming for several years now. We might not be the closest of friends, but I _**do**_ know you, little brother, and you have loved her since you were children."

Legolas turned back to his brother, pain filling him. "But she _**hates**_ me! I do not know what to do. I can hardly stand her not being a part of my life, but I do not wish to show her any more disrespect than I already have." He ran a hand over his hair and puffed out a great puff of air. It was hard to ask for help, but he had no other options. "What do I do, Arandur? I do not wish to lose her!"

Arandur smiled and began to walk back to the armory, dragging Legolas with him. "You have taken the first step already, Legolas. You have given her the space she asked for. You now realize how you feel. You need to spend the next few months respecting her request, _**and**_ getting to know yourself better." He paused, holding Legolas's gaze with a stern look. "You need to grow up, little brother, before you can court the lady. And she is not yet past her majority, so you have time to do so."

Arandur opened the door of the armory and glanced inside, then pulled Legolas into the weapons storage room. It was empty. They replaced their practice weapons, as Arandur continued giving advice.

"Get to be confident in who _**you**_ are without her, then see if you still feel the same. If you do, and she has not yet made an effort to restore your friendship, then approach her and attempt to do so." Arandur patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "You will need to woo her, Legolas, and _**that**_ is something I can help you with!"

Legolas chuckled at that. Arandur's courtship of Minuialwen had taken many years, the first few of which his brother had spent convincing the lady to simply tolerate him. Now they were in love and rarely could be separated when Arandur was home.

"Thank you." Legolas hesitated, then held out his arm to his brother. Arandur took it, returning the warrior's clasp. "It will be hard to give Cellinn her space, but it will be worth it if in the end she could love me as well."

Arandur gave him a strange look, but kept any further comments to himself.

-o-

Arandur smiled as Legolas walked away. Shaking his head, he went to find his wife. He could not wait to tell her that his baby brother was in love with the girl who had loved him since the day she had first set eyes on him. Cellinn just did not know it yet.

As he walked, he considered how to help, not just Legolas, but Cellinn as well. It would help if the girl had a close friend to confide in, someone who could advise, someone who loved to meddle with matchmaking.

He grinned to himself and increased his pace. Oh yes, he could hardly wait to tell Minuialwen this news! And he would need to speak to his father.

**To Be Continued…**


	3. The Notion Is Planted

**Three years later…**

**Autumn**

"Back! Step back, Legolas!" Norbor shouted.

Legolas, attempting to block Dúrion's sword, did as he was told and found his blade became much more effective in blocking his opponent than it had when he was closer. Swordplay was much different than fighting with long knives, he realized. He wished he had worked harder with it before taking the test to enter training. He had still passed the test and joined the other trainees, much to the king's delight and Saelvaethor's displeasure. But now he was being drilled by Norbor, and worse, paired off with Dúrion, who was not only older and more skilled, but who held much contempt for him since losing Cellinn to him. Now, as he fought to hold his ground, Legolas began to think that some of those long evenings he had walked the gardens with Cellinn could have been better spent working with Arandur so he could hold his own against such determination.

Dúrion threw off Legolas's blade and spun, attacking again. Legolas had to use all his talent and skill to block the blows, never gaining an opening to attack. He wished Norbor would call for them to cease. It no longer felt like training, and that made him nervous. A sudden wicked gleam sparked in Dúrion's eyes, and finally, he heard Norbor's shout to desist. But it had not come soon enough to stop his opponent's forward momentum. Legolas saw the blow coming, and there was simply nothing he could do to block it. Everything appeared to slow down as he waited for the metal to bite into his belly.

To his surprise, a blade came from out of nowhere, clanking against Dúrion's sword at the same time a hand shoved him back. Legolas stumbled and fell from the push, landing on his backside, his sword still held firmly in his hand. He looked up in shock to see his father glaring at Dúrion over their blades. Relief washed over him and he found himself thanking the Star Kindler for his father's over protectiveness. Dúrion looked quite shocked and dropped his sword. Legolas felt his own measure of appreciation; he had never seen his father move in such a way before. He regained his feet, watching the situation play out.

Thranduil's eyes never left the young warrior, whose own gaze had dropped to the ground. "Captain Norbor? Explain this!"

The captain approached them, fury in his eyes. "I am not sure what happened, my lord. I chose Dúrion to train with the prince because he shows great promise with a sword and has helped new recruits many times to learn these maneuvers. I have never seen him push one past their limits prior to this, but I suspect there might be some unresolved argument between them from the look on his face when he pulled that move — one reserved for advanced students, if I may remind you, young one!" Norbor reached forward and lifted Dúrion's trembling chin.

"I'm sorry," Dúrion whispered, his eyes glancing from both Norbor to Thranduil, and finally to Legolas. "I wasn't going to hurt him, I swear! I just—"

"You just earned yourself severe disciplinary action," Norbor inserted, adding, "unless the king desires to see you pulled from service completely. That move bordered on treason, Dúrion."

" _ **No**_ ," Legolas called out, stepping forward. "I think he forgot I was not as skilled as he." He looked carefully at Dúrion, meeting his gaze and offering a truce. "For surely he would not wish to harm the family of his closest friend."

Dúrion's eyes were filled with shock and gratitude. "Nay, I did not wish to injure you. I only wished to show off my skills and regain some of my pride. Forgive me, your highness. I took things too far."

Legolas nodded, and stepped forward, offering his hand, which Dúrion clasped. "I do. I think if our positions were reversed, I would have been tempted to do the same." Then he stepped back, looking to his superiors. Thranduil's and Norbor's expressions were blank, but as Legolas met each of their gazes, he saw pride shining in their eyes.

Thranduil broke the silence. "I think perhaps I will leave any discipline to you, Captain."

"As you will, my lord," Norbor agreed, motioning for Dúrion to proceed him off the training field, and took his leave.

Legolas turned to his father with a soft smile, but paused when he noted the king had yet to sheath his sword. His expression turned to one of apprehension. "Adar?"

"Take your position," came the order, spoken coolly.

Legolas's eyes widened in surprise, but he did as he was ordered. For the first time in his life, he stood facing his king, sword drawn and in a battle-ready stance. The first move came so fast he could hardly see it, let alone counter it. He faltered and stood blinking and pale as Thranduil pulled his blow, reducing it to tapping his side with the flat of the blade.

Thranduil raised a brow. "Surely, you can do better than that, son."

Frowning, Legolas took up his position again. This time his father sparred with him as an equal, testing his skills slowly over the course of several minutes, then picked up the pace. After a time, Thranduil began to add a few twists, making Legolas work harder to block the strikes. It was not long before sweat poured off him and his breathing increased to gasps. In a moment of exhaustion and frustration, his blade caught Thranduil's sword. Pushing it off, Legolas spun and attacked.

A leg darted out, and Legolas landed on his back, staring up at the tip of his father's sword fixed on his chest. "You need to work on your swordplay," Thranduil said with an amused smile. "And perhaps I can find some time to teach you, if you will answer me one question."

That offer took Legolas off guard and several emotions coursed through him: shock, curiosity, pleasure. He dearly loved his father, but as king, Thranduil was often called away from his paternal duties. Never had he taken the time to teach his youngest, though Arandur had suffered much through their father's instruction.

"I would be honored to have you as an instructor. What do you wish to know?" Legolas asked, completely at a loss as to what his father might ask him.

"Have you asked the lady to marry you yet?"

Dumbfounded, Legolas blinked.

-o-

"My father asked me the strangest thing today." Legolas, perched in their tree beside Cellinn, leaned his head back, looking up at the bright blue sky above them. The tree almost seemed to sigh in satisfaction behind him. It had greatly rejoiced in their reconciliation and return to its boughs, even inviting Legolas to carve their initials in its bark beside the ones he had scratched out in distress.

"Your father often asks strange questions," Cellinn noted with amusement in her voice. "What did he ask you this time?" She laid her head against his shoulder as she waited for him to respond.

"He...he wanted to know if I had done something — he even offered to instruct me in sword work for the answer. But stranger still was the fact that I had not even considered what he asked. I've been content with the way things are." He looked down at her, his eyes caressing her face.

A slight crease between Cellinn's brows expressed her confusion, and she sat up and turned to look at him fully. "Legolas, what are you talking about? You are making no sense whatsoever."

He lifted his eyes to the forest around them, refusing to hold her gaze. He had no intention of making himself clear. "He has a point," he said, his lips settling into his crooked smile. Without looking at her, he reached over and pulled her back against him, settling his cheek against her hair. She snuggled against him with a contented sigh. "This is perfect, is it not? You and me?"

Cellinn pulled back just enough to tilt her head up to meet his eyes with exasperation. She opened her mouth to speak, met his eyes, and closed her lips on a sigh instead. Then she reached up and placed a soft kiss right on that beloved dimple. "Yes, it is." She pulled back and studied him a moment, tracing a finger down his cheek to the hollow of his throat, causing him to shiver. "Are you going to tell me what you are babbling on about?"

"No," he whispered, leaning in closer to kiss her. "Not yet, but one day." Legolas pulled her back up against his shoulder and together they listened to the wind sing though the trees, and they talked about other, less weighty, matters.

-o-

"He is in love with her, and his thoughts now dwell on where that love needs to be directed," Thranduil grinned at his wife, then pulled his tunic over his head and stripped out of his leggings. He slipped into the hot water, causing it to ripple across the small pool and lap against the opposite side. Leaning back against the stone, he sighed and watched the steam rise from the hot spring deep within the mountain. The rustle of cloth brought his eyes to much more interesting scenery.

"Realizing they love each other is one thing, but they are young yet — _**too**_ young to be pursuing what I think you are suggesting." Eirien let her dress fall to her feet. When she bent over to pick it up, Thranduil grinned again, as she was facing away from him and he had quite a nice view of her bare backside. She straightened, to his disappointment, and folded the cloth, placing it neatly on a rock. She wrinkled her nose at his garments scattered across the cavern floor and he chuckled.

"Come join me," he called. Gingerly, she stepped into the pool, the sides of which had been carefully carved to allow them to sit comfortably beside each other. He slid an arm around her and drew her close to his side. They did not get nearly enough moments like this. "I disagree," he continued. "Long have they loved each other. It is time."

She shook her head and looked up at him in exasperation. "Thranduil! It is too soon! There needs to be a time of courtship, or have you forgotten your efforts to convince me to marry you?"

He laughed. "I have not forgotten. I would have married you as soon as you consented, if not for your father. I found it safer to chase you across the wood, find you pretty flowers... and take my time persuading him he did _**not**_ wish to kill me for convincing his daughter she loved me."

Laughing, she leaned her head against his chest, snuggling against him. "I do remember. They were such wonderful years. And I do not wish to see Legolas and Cellinn deprived of them. Besides, he has only recently begun his training. The first decade is the hardest. There is a long, rough road ahead of him before things settle down enough to allow him the time to commit to a wife. Even then, I think it is too soon. He is not ready." She tilted her head up and began to place light kisses against his jaw line, moving slowly from his chin to stop right behind his ear.

He gasped when her tongue traced the sensitive shell, and, sliding a hand down her leg, he drew it across his body as he turned to kiss her. Between kisses he managed to speak, "But you did not object to Arandur marrying during his training years." Her hand wandered down his chest, over his abdomen, and then slipped lower. He let out a deep groan and his eyes slid shut.

"Arandur was older, as was Minuialwen." He struggled to follow what she was saying. "Let our son set his own pace in this courtship. Cellinn has only just reached her majority, my love. I doubt her parents would wish her to marry so soon. And once he gets the idea of marriage in his head—" her fingers slid slowly down, then back up, and he gasped — "it would not do for him to find himself frustrated and unable to act." She removed her hand and sat up, ignoring his grunt of protest. "It is not healthy to be so frustrated, is it, my husband?"

He opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief. "You are torturing me to teach me a lesson? That is cruel, o my wife!" Before she could react, he captured her and covered her body with his own, resting his weight against her while bringing a captured hand up to his lips. "We married the day after your majority, love," he reminded her with a smirk, "much to your father's horror. At least our youngest son will abide by tradition and endure a betrothal period." He leant in to kiss her, but to his consternation, Eirien began to laugh, the sound echoing in the cavern.

"Oh, my lord and king. I would hate to disappoint you, but I seriously doubt they will wait any longer than we did once the notion is planted in their heads."

He froze, not having considered that. Then the water sloshed over the sides of the pool as he lurched out, leaving his wife protesting in the pool as he grabbed a towel and streaked across the bathing chamber and up the stairs leading back to their private chambers. He had barely managed to cover himself when he burst out the door, startling a poor chambermaid. She screamed, but he ignored her, pushing past and out into the corridor that housed the family's rooms.

" **LEGOLAS**!!"

-o-

Minuialwen looked up as Arandur entered their rooms. His eyes were wide and his face red. "Arandur?" she asked.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning back against the door. "Oh, I pity them!"

She frowned. "Pity who? What's happened?"

He opened his eyes and pushed away from the door, coming to kneel by her side. "At one time, I regretted marrying you the way I did. Now, I am glad we just did it."

"Oh?" she asked, laughing at his odd behavior. "And why is that?"

"Because marrying you as soon as I convinced you that you loved me prevented my father from meddling!"

She snorted in agreement and leaned forward to kiss him. "I've never regretted marrying you," she whispered, then, with a great shove, she toppled him back onto the floor and straddled his stomach with a wicked smile. "Thranduil has no need to meddle, however. Legolas and Cellinn are doing just fine on their own." Her fingers flew over the fastenings of his tunic.

"I thought so too," he agreed, fumbling with the lacings of his leggings. "But apparently Adar mentioned something about marriage to Legolas and then mother said something about how they d never have a proper ceremony once they started thinking on it, and the next thing you know, Adar is wandering the hall, looking for Legolas, in naught but a towel!"

"Oh I wish I could have seen that!" She pulled the tunic from his shoulders and admired the hard muscle she had uncovered. "But right now I'd rather see _**you**_ in nothing at all."

His hands slid up her legs, pushing up her skirts. "The feeling is mutual."

**To Be Continued….**


	4. Not Yet Time

By early winter, Cellinn had taken to either spending her time alone with a book or passing it with her mother and several older ladies of the court, including Queen Eirien, who was well loved by all. And to Cellin's delight, Princess Minuialwen often joined the group.

As the newest member of the King's family and the court, and many centuries younger than the others who met with the Queen, Minuialwen seemed to be as drawn to Cellinn as she felt to the princess. They became fast friends, sharing their joys and sorrows with one exception: The princess's closeness to Legolas kept Cellinn from opening up completely to her new friend, but they had plenty of things in common that they could discuss without speaking of the prince. They shared a love of books, music and sewing, and Minuialwen was teaching her the art of tapestry weaving, something Cellinn found she enjoyed a great deal, so she spent as much time at it as she could.

To her surprise, however, she found that though she spent much time in the princess's chambers, she never ran into Legolas there. She mentioned it once in passing, but Minuialwen waved off her comment with a simple, "Oh, he's not around much. Pouring himself into preparation for the Warrior Trials."

Cellinn felt an unsettling relief that Legolas was not spending his time with Ninglorwen, but she brushed aside the feeling and tried to focus on other things.

-o-

Legolas walked down the hall with Arandur and Dúrion towards his brother's private chambers. They had spent the morning sparring and discussing battle tactics. He was grateful for their help. Before he could join the Home Guard, he would first have to be accepted into training, and that required quite a bit of knowledge beforehand. Saelvathor demanded much, especially from the young princes. He would not be held responsible for them being injured, so they had to prove their readiness to join the trainees.

Arandur had passed, but only barely so. He was now almost finished with his training and would soon join the forces in the Home Guard, spending many years patrolling close to the king's halls before being allowed to transfer to the Border Patrol. Even though times were peaceful, Saelvathor and Thranduil would not take risks with the safety of the people in the realm. They had lost too much at Dagorlad; a strict patrol and guard were maintained.

Legolas would not be allowed to undergo the Warrior Trials until he turned fifty-five — not for another two and a half years. He was determined that during that time, he would make himself more than ready. And if he passed, he would then spend many years perfecting his fighting techniques as well as learning tracking and survival skills. Once training was completed, he would be allowed to join the Home Guard and take his place among the warriors of the realm. He greatly desired to learn to protect his realm and people, and was thankful his father allowed it. With all the losses Thranduil had sustained during the war, especially the deaths of his brothers and Oropher, Legolas had at one time feared Thranduil would insist upon him learning diplomacy and make him sit at court with the stuffy old advisors such as Ninglorwen's father, Lammaeg. He thanked the Star Kindler that he was not the First Heir and thus would be able to escape much of what Arandur could not. While Arandur was allowed to join the Guard, he also had to spend much time in chambers. The thought made Legolas cringe.

Now, the three of them were looking forward to enjoying some of Minuialwen's sweet cakes and tea. The lady was a wonderful baker and always had such delicious treats on hand. But after they entered Arandur's quarters, bright feminine laughter came from the princess's sewing room. Legolas recognized one of the laughs as Cellinn's and pain flared in his chest. He would like to stay with his brother and friend, and possibly be able to speak with her, but he knew he was not ready, and would say something stupid and cause her to despise him even more. So, he gave his older brother a knowing look, thought up an excuse, and departed before they entered the room where the ladies worked and chatted.

-o-

Cellinn, seated beside her friend, watched closely as Minuialwen wove the intricate pattern on a new tapestry. Both were so engrossed with what they were doing that neither heard the door to the room open, nor were they aware of the new arrivals until Minuialwen shrieked and jumped when a pair of arms encircled her and a body pressed against her back. Cellinn, startled by her friend's reaction, laughed when Arandur turned his wife in his arms and kissed her. They were so obviously in love, and she watched them with wistful eyes. She had not felt any romantic inclinations before, and the sudden longing took her a bit by surprise.

Suddenly, the feeling that she was being watched caused her to tense in alarm. Had Arandur not come in alone? Ignoring the couple, who were absorbed in themselves, she felt her heart pound, fearful that Legolas had accompanied his brother. She hesitated, but could not stop herself from turning to see just who bored holes in her back with his intense gaze. Relief poured over her, however, when it turned out to be only Dúrion, one of Arandur's friends. Handsome enough, she supposed, but he would never compare to Legolas.

Stunned at her thought, she smiled stiffly at Dúrion and turned back around. Staring ahead, but seeing nothing, Cellinn puzzled over why she would compare Dúrion to Legolas. It irritated her that the prince could still affect her so much, though she had not spoken to him in almost half a year, not since that day in the garden when she had told him she wished to end their friendship.

Feeling very uncomfortable, Cellinn decided she needed some time alone. "Minuialwen?"

The princess separated herself from her husband's arms long enough to look at her.

"If you do not mind, I am going to call it a day. I wish to catch up on some reading this afternoon. Perhaps, we can work on this some more tomorrow?" Cellinn smiled at the other lady, knowing Minuialwen would not object to spending time with her husband.

"Go ahead, dear. I can put these things away. Enjoy yourself!" Minuialwen waved her out of the room, and Cellinn bid them all a good day.

She could not help but feel she was fleeing. She did not like the feelings that Dúrion's gaze had raised in her, nor did she wish to dwell on why her thoughts had turned once again to Legolas. She had not seen him in weeks, despite her time spent with his family. And the few times she had seen him, he only stiffened and turned away.

Forcing her thoughts elsewhere, Cellinn shoved her confusion and hurt aside for a time. Curling up on her bed, she lost herself in a book. For once, she had chosen a romance, rather than a historical account, and to her chagrin, she found herself enjoying it.

-o-

Filled with melancholy, Legolas walked away from his brother's chambers, deciding to spend some time outside. He had to sidetrack down a darkened corridor to avoid Ninglorwen at one point. The lady had not given up her pursuit, becoming bolder in her advances. He found it harder and harder to avoid her. She simply would not take the hint that he held no interest in her. _Hint_? He snorted. He had flat out told her to leave him be!

Once he was certain he had thrown the irritating lady off his track, he made his way to his room, grabbed his cloak and gloves, and headed towards the trees covered in a deep blanket of fluffy snow.

He would not go to _**their**_ tree. He had found another oak that accepted his company from time to time, and he sat long on a wide branch, thinking to himself, and wondering when he would be able to approach Cellinn. He hoped somehow, if nothing else, that their friendship would be restored, though deep in his heart he longed for much more. She was _**his**_. Her beautiful blue eyes haunted his dreams, and how he longed to run his fingers through the burnished, mahogany locks of her hair. To see her smile at him or laugh at one of his jests would bring great joy to his heart. But it was not yet time.

Taking a shaky breath, Legolas tried to turn his thoughts to other things. He tried to review the new concepts his brother had taught him, but he found he could not think of anything but her. Shaking his head to clear it, he sat upright, turning his head towards the creek as a noise caught his attention.

_There_! He heard it again. A soft whimpering drifted up to him.

He leapt from the tree and ran towards the frozen stream cutting through the forest, his feet leaving scarcely a mark on top of the soft snow. As he drew closer, the whimpers became cries. It was a hurt animal. Legolas's sharp eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of it. He had quite a reputation with animals. As a child, he often would befriend small creatures and bring them home, but never would his parents let him keep them. Wild creatures were meant to remain wild, they said. Then one day, he had found an injured fawn; its leg had been broken when it stepped into a deep hole in the ground caused by some burrowing animal. He had searched for the doe, but she was nowhere to be found. Knowing that if he left the small deer, it could be killed by wolves or other predators, he had scooped it up and brought it home.

That time, his parents could not protest his keeping the animal, for it would not survive without great care. With the help of the head healer, Istuion, the fawn's leg had been set and the small deer had recovered, becoming too dependent to be set free. Thus had begun Legolas's wildlife rescues, and there had been many creatures over the years: squirrels, deer, rabbits, an owl…many were restored under his vigilant care, often with the aid of a blue-eyed, mahogany-haired helper.

Movement caught Legolas's eye, and he moved to it. At the base of a tree amongst the dark roots, lay a small creature not much bigger than his hand. Kneeling down, he touched it lightly, turning it and discovering it was a wolf cub, perhaps three weeks old. The pup was thin and shivering as it whimpered and cried out. Standing up, Legolas looked around for any sign of a pack. Wolves often came this close to the halls in winter, looking for scraps and easier hunting when the snow fell deep. They were not evil, just creatures of the forest not much different than the foxes or hawks who hunted the woods. But there was no sign of the parents or a pack; in fact, there were no new tracks in the snow. The cub would not have been abandoned; wolves did not abandon their young, even if food was in short supply. The pup should have been in a den with a member of the pack watching over it.

Kneeling, he lifted the small form, wrapping it in part of his cloak. It whimpered again, shaking and shivering. That was when Legolas noticed the blood. The tiny creature must have been taken from the wolf's den. By the looks of the bloody marks on the pup, it had fallen from a bird of prey's clutches. The wounds were not deep or life threatening, but the small creature needed warmth and care. And Legolas worried about internal injuries if the pup had fallen from a significant height.

Realizing time could not be wasted, Legolas turned and ran back to the halls, rushing to the healing rooms and Istuion.

An hour later, Legolas sighed in relief as the small cub suckled greedily on a homemade bottle made from a shaped piece of doeskin tied to the neck of a small water skin filled with warmed milk. Squeaking sounds came from the pup as she drank. He grinned. "Well, little one, I guess you need a name. What do we call a pretty little girl like you?" he asked the pup.

"She's going to be big, my prince. Look at her feet!" Istuion pointed to the paws pushing alternately against Legolas's hand, the same as she would do nursing from her mother. Legolas thought they were tiny, but he had never seen a wolf this age before. "Have you raised a wolf before, Istuion?" he asked, looking up.

The healer shook his head. "No, but I have raised enough hounds in my time to know that this little girl will not be little for long!"

"Then she will need a name that suits her frame and her status. As the newest member of the king's family, I name her Draugris, Queen of wolves."

The tiny queen yawned, unimpressed with her new name. Legolas laughed and lifted her up against his chest where she cuddled against him and fell asleep.

**To Be Continued...**


	5. The Tradition

_**Spring** _

"You look beautiful!" Eitheliel beamed as Cellinn twirled for her mother to see.

Blushing, she toyed with the sleeve of her formal blue gown. "Naneth, I feel so…"

"Stop it. You are beautiful, and you are going to have a wonderful time. You only come of age once, and it is not as if you have never attended a formal celebration," her mother tried to reassure her.

But the fluttering in Cellinn's heart refused to cease. She sighed and closed her eyes. It was true that she had attended many formal occasions in the past, but never had she gone as an adult, never had she been the guest of honor, and never had she attended without… She put a quick halt to that disturbing train of thought. "But Naneth," she paused a moment, dreading to ask, but needing to know. "The dance? Will I have to dance with one of the king's family?" Her question was in reference to the custom where a member of the king's family danced with the guest of honor at their coming of age celebration. She opened her eyes and looked into her mother's face, her heart pounding as she waited for the answer.

Exhaling heavily, Eitheliel shook her head in annoyance, her dark braids slipping over her shoulder. "That is the tradition, child. Why are you so nervous?"

"Do you know who my partner will be?" Cellinn's lower lip trembled as she searched her mother's face, hoping it would be either the eldest prince or the king that she would be asked to dance with.

The older lady smiled softly, understanding showing in her eyes at last. "No, I do not. That is decided between them. Usually, any unwed elf of the family is chosen, if there is one, so I assume it will be Prince Legolas."

When Cellinn flinched at her declaration, Eitheliel reached out and pulled her daughter into a comforting embrace. "He still has not spoken to you?"

Cellinn shook her head, the sorrow filling her heart. Pulling back, she looked in the large mirror to make sure her hair had not been mussed by the tight hug. But she paused and winced at her reflection as she recalled a certain recent incident. "Well, he spoke to me a couple weeks ago, when we nearly collided in the halls after turning a corner from opposite directions," she mumbled.

Eitheliel smiled and nodded for her to continue. "And what did he say?"

"He said, 'Excuse me,' and kept walking!" Cellinn snapped, her ire returning in full force after she remembered his abruptness. Even after she found out he had been late for a meeting with the king she could not forgive him, for his silence since last summer greatly troubled her, as did certain rumors.

"Cellinn," her mother's voice and gaze were full of exasperation. "You cannot stay angry at him forever, child. You are the one who ended the friendship. I imagine that must have been very painful for him. You were his closest friend. He is simply honoring your request to leave you alone. You must take the first step if you wish to be reconciled."

"Perhaps he just does not care and only wished for someone to tease all those years," Cellinn responded angrily, lowering her eyes.

"Sometimes, child, I would like to shake some sense into you! If you really believe that, then you never knew him at all. If you took the time to look into his eyes, you would see he is still in pain over the loss of your friendship - as are you," Eitheliel finished softly, lifting her daughter's chin with a long finger.

"He never stays in a room long enough to look at me," Cellinn whispered, her anger slipping away as the pain was renewed within her. Tears filled her eyes.

"Perhaps tonight, he will."

She was not sure if her mother's words comforted her or not.

-o-

The Great Hall was decorated with greenery and flowers for the celebration, and cheery candles filled the room with light. Cellinn felt very nervous at all the attention, but managed to graciously receive the well wishes from the many acquaintances and friends who passed by the table of honor, where she was seated for the grand feast. Their table was closest to the head table, where the king and his family dined, so she could see Legolas from where she sat. He was seated next to his mother, on his father's left hand, facing her table, but he did not look in her direction, even once. At least not that she saw, and she glanced his way often. He looked nervous, and she suspected even more that he would be the appointed representative of the king's family with whom she would be expected to dance. Her heart raced at the thought, and her stomach flipped in nervous anticipation.

The meal ended all too soon for her unsettled emotions. Those gathered began to drift towards the large dance area, where the musicians were tuning their instruments. There was not much time left to get her heart to stop pounding! She forced herself to take a deep breath. Her father came and offered her his hand, as tradition gave him the first dance, to be followed by the dance with whichever member of the king's family Thranduil had chosen. Cellinn somehow managed to make it to her feet with a smile on her face, and as the music began and her father took her in his arms, she finally relaxed. This was her coming of age celebration! She would enjoy every moment of it…no matter how unpleasant the next dance turned out to be. Her skirts flared out as Angalar twirled her around the floor, a proud smile his face.

The dance was wonderful, one of her favorites, and somehow she lost herself in the music and forgot about her nervousness. When the music came to an end, her father bowed and she curtsied. He straightened and met the eyes of someone over her shoulder. Her heart began to race again. Angalar smiled and nodded his head to whoever stood behind her, before making his way back to Eitheliel.

Cellinn could not force herself to turn around to face him. An elegant hand appeared before her, and she could put it off no longer. Only one more dance and she would not be the only one out on the floor; the others would join in as soon as the third dance began. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and nearly collapsed when her gaze met eyes a brilliant… _ **green**_?

Arandur smiled kindly at her and covered for her moment of shock by pulling her unresisting body into his arms as the music began. Since she had befriended Minuialwen, Cellinn had come to know the eldest prince much better; at the moment, she did not think she could be more relieved. Still, her confusion must have shown in her eyes, for he explained his presence. "Father asked Legolas to have this dance, but my little brother thought you would feel much too uncomfortable to truly enjoy it with so many eyes upon you. So Legolas asked me to take his place. He cares much for you and your wellbeing."

Cellinn's heart lurched at the words. "He is not still angry with me?"

Arandur shook his head with a sad smile. "Cellinn, he was never angry with you, only at himself for being so insensitive to your feelings that you felt the need to remove yourself from him."

"I deeply regret my words that day. I cannot tell you how many times I have wished to take them back." She felt her eyes mist and blinked back the tears.

"Then speak to him and tell him this! Do not continue to cut him out of your life."

Cellinn dropped her eyes. "I cannot," she whispered dejectedly.

Arandur almost stopped in the middle of the dance. "Why not? You desire his friendship! I can see it in your eyes."

She glanced up at him and took a shaky breath. "I could not bear him refusing me."

He shook his head at her. "He would not."

The slow music came to an end, and Cellinn brought her wayward emotions under control. She would now be expected to dance with whoever asked her, and already others were moving out onto the floor. Arandur bowed, and she curtsied according to proper etiquette, and as she brought her eyes back to him, she caught his slight smile and nod to whomever was again behind her, seeking her hand in a dance.

Now relieved that the official dances were over, she turned with a bright smile on her face, her hand already reaching to the elf behind her…and froze.

Her gaze collided with bright grey eyes in a handsome face…a face that had haunted her dreams for almost a year.

_-o-_

Legolas watched his brother approach Cellinn, and he winced when she turned to Arandur so hesitantly, almost as if in fear. Legolas knew her reaction was because she had expected him instead, and her obvious relief when it was not made his heart ache. He began to wish he could just leave instead of waiting for Arandur's signal to let him know whether to proceed with the plan or to wait for a better time. The thought of having to go longer without speaking to her was unbearable, so he forced himself to move closer to the pair.

At the dance's end, Arandur nodded subtly and smiled his approval, the signal Legolas had been holding his breath waiting for. And then she turned, smiling so brightly before freezing in place. He gulped; her distress at seeing him there caused his heart to pound with fear. Would she reject him yet again? He bowed and waited.

For a moment, he was sure she would refuse him, but Cellinn just stood there, her hand still extended uncertainly towards him as she gazed at him in shock. He pleaded with his eyes, begging her to dance with him, to give him another chance but at the same time giving her the opportunity to turn away and chose another partner if she preferred.

Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth, and Legolas thought he could almost hear her heart pounding over his own thundering chest. He glanced at her fingers, then back at her lovely eyes, unsure of what to do. Wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms, he forced himself to only offer his hand instead of just reaching for her, allowing her to accept or walk away. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

His patient acceptance of her choice seemed to be the deciding factor for Cellinn. She closed the distance between them and placed her hand in his, offering a small, uncertain smile. He returned the gesture as the soft music began to play once more.

The two of them had danced many times in the past, but this time it was obvious that something was different. Their eyes remained locked as they floated across the floor, moving in and out of the other dancers. It was a full two minutes before either spoke. Legolas found he was thankful the song was a long one. He did not know if he would ever have the chance to speak with her again, and he wished time would stand still.

"I apologize for being so rude a couple of weeks ago. I was in a rush, and I-I had thought you were someone else at first. It did not occur to me until later that it was you I almost ran over in my haste

Cellinn looked up at him shyly through her eyelashes. "You are not the only one at fault. I was not watching where I was going." She paused and dropped her gaze.

"Legolas…"

"Cellinn…"

They spoke simultaneously, their eyes each drawn to the other. Legolas made himself continue. "Cellinn, I must also apologize for my…thoughtless behavior over the past years. It was heartless of me to disregard your feelings for my own amusement. It was a game to me…and one I never thought would cost me your friendship. I was inconsiderate, and I am very sorry. I should have ceased acting so childishly long ago—"

She lifted her hand from the silvery blue tunic covering his shoulder and pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing his ramblings. "Stop." When he frowned in confusion, she added with a smile, "Let me speak, please?" He nodded, his frown fading as she removed her fingers, placing her hand back on his shoulder.

"Legolas, it was wrong of me to end our friendship over something so…" Her voice rose somewhat when he began to interrupt. "NO! Let me finish!" He nodded once more and waited. "I could have… _ **should**_ have talked to you, not allowed my anger to grow in silence." Her voice trembled over the words. "I have long regretted my words that day."

"I do not."

He had startled her with his words, for she flinched, but he smiled to remove any sting from his statement. "I do not regret your words, for they made me look at myself and realize I needed to mature, made me realize how important your friendship is to me. I only regret that I caused you pain." His thumb wiped away a tear that slipped down her soft cheek. "I have tried to give you the space you needed, but I miss you, Cellinn. Can you find it in your heart to give me another chance? Please?"

She laughed, her tears replaced by a look of joy. "You stupid prince! I already have. I did months ago. Can you forgive me?"

He nodded, sighing in relief as a warm smile drew the corners of his mouth upwards. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He pulled her closer and rested his cheek against her hair when she inclined her head against his shoulder. For a moment in time, his world was perfect, and he treasured the remaining minutes of the dance.

When the music came to an end, he was loath to release her, wishing he could slip her out to the gardens where they could speak for hours as they used to do. But tonight was her special night, and there were many others waiting to dance with his beautiful friend, so Legolas pulled back and bowed.

Before any other could claim her for the next dance, however, he leaned forward and whispered for her ears alone, "Save me the last dance?"

His heart somersaulted when she smiled and answered, "I would like that very much."

-o-

The rest of the night seemed to drag by for Cellinn as she danced with one after another. But her heart was much lighter now that she had spoken with Legolas. She felt relieved to learn that he had only avoided her because he thought it was what she wanted. Her mother had been correct, as usual. There had been much pain in his eyes before they had spoken, but when she had agreed to give him the last dance, his eyes had shone with joy.

Unbidden, her eyes roamed the room, coming to rest on Ninglorwen. The lady's cold green gaze was fixed on Legolas, who danced with his mother. Cellin could hardly keep her own eyes from searching the room for him, distracting her from her many dance partners. But all during the hours of song and dance, Legolas only danced with his mother and Minuialwen, which Cellinn found odd. Ever since he had come of age, the king had insisted that he mingle with the unwed ladies at events such as this. Cellinn thought Thranduil would not be happy until both his sons were married and had children running through the halls.

_Legolas? Married? And with elflings?_ She chuckled to herself, but the thought of him married to someone also caused an unpleasant flutter in her stomach. Her eyes strayed back to Ninglorwen, and uneasiness welled up in her chest. Were the rumors true? Ninglorwen's desires were obvious, but what of Legolas? She worried for her friend, but he seemed to take no note of the lady. Perhaps he was over his adolescent infatuation with her. Cellinn hoped so, though she didn't ponder why that was so important to her. She convinced herself she simply didn't wish to see him hurt.

After a time, Dúrion asked her to dance, and she accepted since they had become friends over the past couple of months. They laughed as they chatted, enjoying each other's company. The song was a merry one, and as he twirled her around, she giggled, her face warm from all the dancing. But something changed in his face, a look she did not understand but had seen several times in the past weeks. It made her feel uneasy. This time, it was far more intense, and her breath caught in her throat when he pulled her close to him, the same way Legolas had done earlier.

But she did not feel comfortable so close to Dúrion. She felt forced, and self-conscious. Pulling back, she questioned him with her eyes, but he was no longer watching her. His gaze now focused on someone across the room - someone he made sure she could not see by angling her away.

"Dúrion?" she asked, uncertain at his strange behavior.

He dropped his eyes to her face and the coldness in them softened. "Cellinn, I would be honored if you would grant me the last dance this eve. Perhaps afterwards, we could walk in the gardens…and talk?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. Dúrion had never shown such interest before, had he? "I have already promised the final dance to Prince Legolas. Perhaps another time?" Her voice remained pleasant, accompanied with a soft smile, giving no sign of the confusing emotions stirring within her.

Dúrion frowned in obvious displeasure, glancing back across the room. Then, he shrugged. "I will take you up on that." He winked and smiled in satisfaction as the music ended, and Cellinn was grateful to be passed to her next partner.

-o-

Legolas's eyes never left Cellinn as Dúrion moved them across the floor. He did not like the looks he'd received from his brother's friend since he had danced with Cellinn earlier in the evening. He liked the looks Dúrion bestowed on _**her**_ even less. At first, the couple laughed and talked, obviously enjoying the dance, but then Dúrion had noticed Legolas's observation of them, and his eyes had turned to blue ice. When that gaze heated upon looking down at Cellinn, Legolas's blood ran cold. He understood exactly what that look meant, and it troubled him for he could not see Cellinn's face to see if she understood or reciprocated.

Anger flared within him, and when Dúrion pulled Cellinn close in his arms, Legolas started across the room, only to be stopped by Arandur's tight grip on his arm. "It is not your place, Legolas. Let it play out on its own. Trust me," his brother pleaded. "You will make it worse if you interfere now."

"But Arandur…." His anger and anguish were evident in his voice.

"No!" his brother interrupted. "Remember your plan, for that is what will move the lady. Ignore his interest. Your jealousy will _**not**_ win her heart." The anger did not leave him as Legolas continued to glare at his rival. Arandur sighed. "Dúrion is within his rights to pursue her. He has not behaved inappropriately. It is time you realize you are not the only who desires her, Legolas."

That gave him pause. When he looked back across the room at the couple dancing, Cellinn was no longer held so closely in Dúrion's arms. They seemed to be just talking, and Legolas took great satisfaction in the displeasure on Dúrion's face. But then his rival smiled, looking way too pleased with himself, and Legolas felt his heart clench again. Why would he look so satisfied with whatever Cellinn had told him?

"Legolas," Arandur released the hold on his arm. "Do not say anything to Cellinn about him unless she mentions it…and even then, be very careful of what you say. If anyone knows the folly of jealousy when pursuing a lady, it is I. Trust me in this…and do not seek out Dúrion either. Ignore him."

"But that is letting him get away with an attack on my honor!" Legolas spit out, looking at his brother in disbelief.

"No - he has only tried to turn her away from you, Legolas. He is attempting to stir you up and make you jealous! That is how I almost lost Minuialwen, remember? Dúrion learned from my experience, and he is now playing the part Tegilel did between me and Minuiawen. He is attempting to succeed where Tegilel failed. Do not let him, little brother. Dúrion is a good friend, but it is you whom Cellinn loves."

Legolas blinked, shocked at those words. "She does? How do you know?"

"I just do." Arandur answered with a small smile.

Legolas rolled his eyes in frustration, and turned back to watch the end of the dance. There were only a few left before the last, when Cellinn would choose her partner from the crowd. He was surprised when he began to feel nervous, for he had been looking forward to it since she had promised him the dance. She had forgiven him; he should feel comfortable with her again. But his new knowledge about his feelings for her made him anxious, especially since...

Seeing an older noble of the court offer his hand to her, he allowed himself to avert his eyes. If he was going to make it through the remainder of the night, he needed something to help him relax. He neatly sidestepped Ninglorwen, who had attempted to waylay him all evening, and headed for the wine.

-o-

Cellinn was beginning to wish she could ask for the night to end. There had been a time when she loved dancing, but usually she did not have to participate in every single dance at a feast! And, she found herself looking forward to dancing with Legolas again. How she had missed him! And he understood her feelings. She was sure he would respect her from now on, and they could resume their friendship as it has always been. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of him, but a lingering sadness remained in her heart for the time they had lost.

The music ended, and Cellinn curtsied to her most recent partner. She glanced around in surprise when no one else stepped forward to claim her hand, and she blushed as she realized she stood alone, surrounded by a sea of smiling faces. King Thranduil walked out to her, smiling as he came to stand beside her. Her stomach flipped. He had that look about him, the look that said 'I'm about to make a grand announcement!' And from the building feel of anticipation from the crowd, such an announcement, she feared, would be found amusing to everyone but her. Her face burned hotter.

"Tonight has been a wonderful celebration of Lady Cellinn's coming of age, but now the festivities come to a close." The king looked down at Cellinn with a wicked smile, a smile that distinctly resembled Legolas's when he was thinking of his latest prank, and that caused her to fidget nervously. Here it came!

"It is customary that no one under age may attend a coming of age celebration, and for a good reason. It is hoped that all adults keep the last dance and the following tradition a secret. Are you aware of the tradition, Lady Cellinn?"

Cellinn felt her knees go weak. How very much like the king to keep certain traditions a secret! Legolas got his sense of humor from his father, after all, and she dreaded to hear what she would now be forced to endure. Her mind raced but she could not think of what it could possibly be! If she had remained friends with the other young ladies, she would in all likelihood already be aware of what was to come. They always knew such secrets, but she had kept her distance and none had offered to tell her what to expect.

She took a shaky breath, feeling the blush spread up her ears. "I am not sure, my lord. I know I get to choose my partner for the last dance. Is that all?" she asked, looking up at him with a hopeful smile.

Thranduil chuckled in a manner that made Cellinn sure it was not. "Yes, you get to choose your partner for the last dance. But, choose well, my lady, for at the end of the dance, the fortunate elf gets to claim your first kiss…here, on the floor…in front of all. He then has the honor of escorting you wherever you wish to go. A walk in the gardens, perhaps?" He winked at her.

How she remained on her feet for that announcement, Cellinn did not know. Her eyes darted amongst the people lining the floor, distressed at what was now required of her. What a cruel tradition! She felt ill and considered fleeing in tears, but then her eyes landed on a comfortingly familiar face. Legolas held her gaze and silently mouthed the words, "Trust me." Somehow her feet moved, and she found herself standing before him, searching his eyes, for what she was not sure. He whispered, "It is all right. If you wish to choose someone else…"

She cut him off by reaching for his hand, and with an unexpected boldness, turned to look at the king. "I choose Prince Legolas, my lord. Is that allowed?"

Laughter rippled across the crowd, and the king grinned at her. "My Lady's choice is not to be questioned. Enjoy your dance."

**To Be Continued…**


	6. A Walk In The Gardens

Cellinn felt strangely calm as Legolas led her onto the floor and turned her towards him as the music began. His eyes met hers as he gently pulled her into his arms, and she could not take her gaze from his as he began to lead them in the slow dance. Unsure of what to say, she just gazed at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I could not say anything until the king made the announcement," Legolas explained his silence on the tradition. "I was unsure how you would respond to it. I felt you would dislike the custom. I hope I did the right thing." His eyes questioned her, and she smiled to reassure him.

"You did. If you had not asked…" She closed her eyes, wincing at the horror as she realized what she would have done. "Dúrion asked me shortly after you did. If I had not already promised you the dance," she opened her eyes to look at him. "I would have disgraced myself by fleeing. I think I almost did anyway, until I saw you. Thank you," she breathed.

He inclined his head with a gentle smile. Then he chuckled. "It is a silly tradition. I do not think many make it to their coming of age unkissed."

Cellinn looked at him suspiciously, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Are you saying you attended your coming of age having already been kissed?"

His eyes widened, and to her amazement, a faint blush crept across his cheeks, and he dropped his eyes. "I said not many. I was not including myself in that declaration."

She snorted, holding in a giggle. "So the prince was surprised and received his first kiss in front of everyone?" He nodded keeping his eyes averted. She found his sudden bashfulness to be quite adorable. "Who was the lady to receive such an honor?" she inquired, pressing him while trying to ignore the strange twist in her chest as she suddenly needed to know the answer. She found it surprising that Legolas had not told her of the tradition after his coming of age. They had kept little from each other over the years. But now she could not stop herself from wondering what other secrets he harbored, such as kisses...

He cleared his throat and raised his eyes, a sheepish look on his face. "I-I chose Minuialwen. She seemed safe enough, since she was soon to be my sister; and she was kind to not embarrass me more than necessary." He grinned. "Arandur nearly choked!"

Relief poured through her for reasons she did not understand, and she laughed with him, imagining the look on his brother's face. Arandur had always been very jealous of anyone paying attention to his chosen lady, often to his detriment when it came to wooing Minuialwen. Cellinn's laughter died, however, when she realized the music was ending. The last dance was only a short one, and now, she faced something she had never before considered — kissing her best friend.

As soon as the last note played, she found herself still standing within the circle of Legolas's arms. Silence filled the large hall. It seemed as if all were holding their breath along with her as she looked up, very nervously, into Legolas's eyes. His face wobbled in her vision, and she realized she was trembling.

He smiled and reached a hand to her face, cupping her chin in his palm, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. Dipping his head, Legolas placed a light, quick kiss upon her lips, then pulled back, dropping his hand with a wink as he smiled at her.

"See, no pain involved, my lady."

-o-

When the last note had played, Legolas had been sure his heart would beat nearly out of his chest. He had longed to kiss Cellinn and hold her in his arms, but this was not the way he had wanted it to be — forced by a rather silly tradition. So, he had done the only honorable thing he could: he was gentle, kept it light and quick, despite the fact his lips longed to remain upon hers, and he made a jest to ease her discomfort.

Then he forced himself to step back, but kept his eyes upon hers, trying to read her reaction to what had just happened as the people applauded and cheered. To his horror, Cellinn's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh Legolas," she whispered. Her eyes closed, and two tears slipped down her cheeks. Distressed by her emotional response, he reached up to wipe the tears away, only to be enfolded in an embrace as her arms wrapped around his neck and her head rested against his shoulder. "Thank you," she murmured, followed by a sniff.

He completed the hug, feeling her sigh against him. If it were not for the eyes of so many upon them he would kiss her again. Instead, he disentangled himself from her. "I believe you have the power to order me, my lady. To where shall I escort you, now that the celebration has come to an end?"

Her smile caused flutters in his chest, and her words reached all the way into his heart. "I think a walk in the gardens would be lovely."

Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, Legolas led her from the hall, ignoring the jeers and laughter as they slipped out the door. The sounds faded behind them. Neither spoke as they walked. Legolas felt drained from the emotions he had experienced over the course of the celebration. It seemed he had swung from low to high and back several times. No doubt, he would sleep well this night — he smiled to himself — once he found his bed. For the moment, he felt he could soar as the weight of her hand on his arm seemed to burn through his sleeve to the skin beneath.

Nodding as they passed a guard, Legolas opened the door leading outside to the Queen's Garden, the most beautiful in his estimation of the many gracing the Halls. His mother had planted and tended it with her own hands; and kissed by the rains and warmed by the sun, the plants thrived. Her hand fell from his arm as they entered, and he took it in his own, lacing their fingers. Then he led her down the moonlit path.

They walked hand in hand for a time, until Legolas broke the comfortable silence between them. "Minuialwen told me you are learning tapestry weaving. Do you enjoy it?" He glanced down, noting her soft smile.

"I do enjoy it very much, though it is proving more daunting than I originally thought it would be. But Minuialwen is a good teacher, and your mother has given me some instruction as well. For now, I am only making very simple patterns; it is much harder than it looks! On the larger loom —"

He listened to all she had to say, commenting from time to time as she told him about her life over the past months. Their conversation turned to him after a while, and he imparted to her all his preparations for entering training for the Home Guard. She expressed the same interest in his activities as he had shown in hers. As they rounded a bend in the path, his eyes came to rest upon a stone bench backed by a high wall covered with climbing wild roses that filled the air with their heady scent. Legolas noticed Cellinn's eyes strayed to the wall of flowers, and asked, "Would you like to sit for awhile, my lady?" He glanced down to see her response.

"Legolas," she laughed, "since when do you call me lady?" Cellinn took a seat and looked up at him expectantly.

"Since tonight," he answered, sitting down beside her but with his legs on the opposite side, so that he could easily see her eyes when they turned in towards the other. They had sat thus many times when they were children, but only now did Legolas see the advantages such a position held. It would be easy to lean in and place his lips —

Remembering Arandur's advice to take things very slowly, he held himself in check. They had only just renewed their friendship! There would be time for courting. He must be patient. "You are now an adult and, therefore, must bear your proper title. I used it earlier, but perhaps you were unaware…" He winked at her.

She smacked him on the arm. "Stop it! You need not remind me that I was not in my right mind at that moment." Even in the faint light, he detected a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Forgive me, my lady, I meant not to cause you embarrassment," he apologized with a grin, enjoying her discomfiture immensely.

-o-

Cellinn glared at him, or attempted to do so. It was hard to accomplish when she could not seem to stop smiling. Yet, she was sure he _**did**_ mean to remind her of how silly she must have been, staring up at him, breathless and all fluttery _._

_Wishing he would kiss me again…_

She dropped her eyes to her hands folded in her lap. _I cannot believe I just thought that_. He was her friend. He was only being kind. He was _**not**_ interested in her in that way. She glanced back up at him and noticed he was watching her with unveiled interest. _But am_ **I** _interested in_ **him** _that way?_

_What a question! Oh course not!_

To her surprise, Legolas smiled at her and did not bring it up again, though it was obvious that he was wondering about where her thoughts had strayed. She had always been able to read him well and, right now, he was curious about what she was thinking. And he looked a little nervous. Why would _**he**_ be nervous? He had already kissed her — not that she really counted that peck a kiss — so what could he be worried about.

"Cellinn." The soft tone of his voice caused strange fluttery feelings in her chest as he cocked his head at her, all traces of teasing vanished. "I wish to give you something."

A gift? "For me? Why?" she looked at him in puzzlement, her head tilted slightly to the side, as she pondered the sudden change in conversation.

He chuckled, one long fingered hand reaching into his tunic, removing something from a pocket sewn inside. "It is your begetting day, remember? I always get you something for your begetting day." She blanched, and he laughed. "I promise it is nothing slimy! You will like it," he sobered, "I hope."

He opened his fist and a necklace dropped to dangle from his fingers. The finely wrought chain, sparkling in the moonlight, supported a knotted silver pendant, bearing at its center what appeared to be a bright sapphire. Even in the dim light of the moon and starlight, it was beautiful, and she had to drag her gaze from it back to the giver.

"The stone is the same color as your eyes," he explained. "Turn around that I might put it on you."

Cellinn did so, lifting her hair as he placed the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp. His hand brushed against the nape of her neck, and she shivered, dropping her hair and bringing her hand up to touch the pendant lying in the hollow of her throat. Her fingers still upon the cool metal, she turned to look at him.

"Oh, Legolas, it is beautiful. Thank you." Her eyes met his and she could not resist their pull. Leaning in, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder, her face almost against his neck. His arms came up to hold her against him, and he ducked his head to place a soft kiss on her cheek. With a sigh, he leaned his face against her hair. Another shiver ran down her spine. It felt right to be here, and that strange flutter was back in her stomach and chest again. Pulling back to look up at him, Cellinn found herself drowning in his silvery-grey eyes. "Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"About that kiss…" When he raised an eyebrow she continued. "Tonight I was to receive my first kiss, but that was not a real ki…" Soft lips covered her own before she could complete her sentence and a warm hand slid up her back, fingers burying in her hair. His lips moved lightly over hers in a gentle, yet moving kiss. It was perfect.

Until he stiffened and pulled back, dropping his hand, a look of dismay upon his face. "Cellinn, I - I should not have done that! Forgive me, please?"

She stared at him in complete shock as he continued, unable to comprehend how one minute he could be kissing her and everything could be so perfect and the next —

"Please, Cellinn. I was not thinking. Please, let us just pretend this did not happen? I do not wish to lose your friendship again," he finished in almost a whisper.

Oh, how his words hurt! And hurt terribly. He regretted kissing her! He did not care for her in such a manner. He did not even understand their friendship! "You think I would end our friendship because of a kiss I all but asked you to give me?" she asked incredulously, pulling away from him and standing. Her hands reached up and unfastened the chain he had placed around her neck only minutes before.

"Cellinn, please do not do this?" he pleaded as he came to stand in front of her, his eyes begging her to stop. She held the pendant out to him and placed it in his unwilling hand, ignoring the look of distress upon his face as his fingers closed around it. She did not allow him time to speak further. "I do not think I can accept this now. Good night, Legolas."

"Cellinn!" He reached for her, but she slipped past him. "Please, you do not understand!"

She forced herself to walk away from him, her heart screaming that she must have misunderstood him, for truly, why would he kiss her so and then beg her forgiveness for it? She felt so confused. One thing she knew for certain, however; their friendship would never be the same again. And so she walked away, head held high, her shoulders straight, while tears streamed down her cheeks. She did not allow herself to look back.

-o-

"Arandur!" Minuialwen chastised her husband, tugging at his hand to hold him back. "We should not spy on them! Give them some peace!" Arandur paused and glanced down at her, a look of chagrin on his face. Oh, she would not like what he was going to say! She just knew it!

"Father charged me with keeping an eye on them. While technically adults, they still must be chaperoned." He shook his head, his disgust quite clear as reached for her. "You know how certain members of the court can be."

Indeed, she did. She still felt the occasional bite of disapproval, though the teeth did not reach as deep as they once had, not like when she had first been presented as their princess. Oh, how horrified she had been to realize then the differences in their cultures! She had considered her king and his council the same as her own people, for Arandur had seemed just as wild, just as passionate as her simple Silvan kin.

She went willingly into his embrace, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. She had learned too late that the Sindar were far more formal, steeped in longstanding tradition. While her marriage had never been questioned, their marrying without ceremony had been frowned upon. A 'lack of decorum' it was deemed. And yet the king himself had wed in the same manner!

Minuialwen made a face. Hidden in her husband's arms, she let her displeasure show to none but herself. Thranduil's disdain for custom was in all likelihood what had the stuffy nobles so irate when Arandur presented her. They had looked forward to their lord's heir marrying properly. After all, Thranduil had not been king when he had taken his Silvan bride to his bed without anyone's knowledge or consent. He had been naught but the youngest prince of three.

But the War had changed that, making him king in a day. And those surviving from Doriath held certain expectations. _Foolish expectations! Love should not be hindered by such frippery!_

But disdaining the old traditions did not change the fact there were certain biases in the king's court. She thought of Lammaeg and his selfish, conniving daughter, Ninglorwen. She would do anything to help spare Legolas and Cellinn the biting tongues, the frigid stares, the glances of disapproval! So she nodded and allowed Arandur to lead her up the remaining steps to the hidden balcony overlooking the Queen's garden.

Below them, Legolas and Cellinn stopped and sat at a familiar bench, and she smiled, watching the fragile romance blossom. The two of them were so young, so naïve…

_And so stupid!_

She blinked at the sudden change in mood, Cellinn's return of the necklace and her subsequent quitting of the garden. Minuialwen felt she could scream as all of Legolas's efforts came crashing down around him.

She watched him sink to his knees on the garden path, the pendant clutched tightly in his fist to his heart. Then his fist hit the earth so hard, she could hear the dull thud from where they stood.

Arandur's arms tightened around her, and she glanced up, tears spilling down her cheeks. He shook his head, "We should not have seen this," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

But out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed a brief shadow on another balcony, and Minuialwen knew they had been right to come. She could not quite make out the identity of the person, but she would swear it was Lammaeg. Only he, Angalar or the king's family would have access to that balcony, and her instincts screamed it was not any of the latter. No, the king had been right to insist on a chaperone this night. But she kept that information to herself for the time being.

"He will need a listening ear, husband." Minuialwen reached up and kissed his tense cheek. "Go to him."

Arandur glanced back into the garden and inclined his head. He used a small stair down from balcony, the sound of his booted feet fading away when he reached the lawn. When Minuialwen peeked back at the higher balcony further down, the shadowy figure had gone.

**To Be Continued…**


	7. As You Wish

**A couple weeks later…**

The warm morning sun shone down on the wood, filtering through the green leaves and leaving dappled patterns on the forest floor. Birds sang, occasionally bursting out of the trees in full flight, chasing one another in a spring courting ritual. A white doe moving gracefully down a deer track through the trees, her dappled fawn following close behind her, suddenly froze, her head coming up to look at a flash of gold. With a quick jump, the deer disappeared through the thick foliage, her fawn right behind her, their tails held high like flags.

Legolas walked through the trees, seeking solace in their comforting whispers. His heart ached, and it was his own fault, which only made him feel worse. Why had he done it? Arandur had warned him not to overstep, but he had been unable to resist her when she spoke of their first kiss that way. Her response confused him, for once he had time to ponder what had occurred, he realized that she had returned the kiss. He had not considered that at the moment; then he had only been horrified that he had kissed her. He feared he would lose her due to his rash action and had begged her forgiveness. In his eyes, he had stepped over a boundary without permission, and the cost was Cellinn's absence in his life. It was a very painful price to pay.

Since her coming of age celebration two weeks ago, Cellinn had avoided him. But the more he thought on what had happened, he began to see that she had greatly misunderstood him, and that explained her leaving and returning his gift. She had kissed him back! She must at least feel _**something**_ for him, yet, he had apologized, asked her to pretend it had not happened. He was an idiot! She thought he had rejected her. _Oh, Cellinn._ If only she knew how he felt!

_Show her, you idiot!_

Could he do that? No matter how she responded, could he simply continue his initial plan of action and attempt to court her? It was possible! Arandur had pursued Minuialwen despite her initial dislike of him and telling him to jump into the river. And he could do the same with Cellinn. He would speak with her as if everything was fine between them, invite her for walks, bring her flowers and do all the things a man did when courting a lady. A slow smile spread across his face as he headed back towards the Halls to seek her out.

-o-

It was late morning, and Cellinn laughed at Dúrion's jest as she strolled with him through the gardens outside the Halls. It was good to laugh; she had not done much of that since the night of her coming of age. Even the thought of those final moments brought tears to her eyes. Her laughter died. Before she could stop it, a tear escaped over her lashes and streaked down her cheek.

"Cellinn? What is it?" Dúrion asked, halting their steps and turning her towards him. One of his fingers brushed the tear from her face while his other hand rubbed her arm soothingly. "Did I say something to offend you, my lady? For if I have, I beg your pardon!"

He was so earnest, so concerned, Cellinn managed a smile. "No, Dúrion, you have said nothing amiss. It is only my stray thoughts that distract me and cause me pain."

"The prince hurt you, did he not?" he asked.

How Dúrion knew it had been Legolas that had hurt her, Cellinn did not know. Some form of male instinct perhaps? Still, she would not have him speaking ill of her friend, for friend Legolas still was, despite the awkwardness she felt. She really needed to speak to him, to apologize for walking away, for returning the necklace. Oh, how she wished she had kept it! Another irritating tear trickled from her lashes. She would _**not**_ cry!

"I swear by the Valar, prince or not, I could break him in half for causing you pain!" Dúrion declared hotly.

"Is that a challenge, Dúrion?" Grey eyes flashing angrily, Legolas appeared from behind a tree. The slight breeze caught his golden hair, brushing it back over his shoulders. "Not that the matter is any of your concern; it is between the lady and I. But if you wish to attempt breaking me, by all means, I bid you try!"

_Oh no._ Why, oh why, of all places did Legolas have to show up here? Now? Of all the statements to overhear! And that stubborn prince would never back down from an attack on his honor, for that was how he would perceive Dúrion's words.

Dúrion seemed to burn with indignation, tensing beside her. "I would be glad to defend Lady Cellinn's honor, _**your highness**_ ," he snarled. "You are not worthy of the lady or her attentions."

"Well I know it!"

_What?_ Cellinn blinked. _He thinks he is not worthy of me? Oh Legolas, I fear I have hurt you as well._

"Yet, I say this matter is between the lady and myself and does not concern you, but if she wishes you to fight for her…" Legolas bowed mockingly.

" **STOP IT**! Both of you! You are acting like children!" Cellinn cast a sharp glance at the bristling male at her side. "I value your friendship, Dúrion, but you have no right to speak of things of which you know naught, nor should you speak so against the prince. He is right. What lies between us concerns Legolas and myself alone and is none of your affair. I ask you to stand down from this silly challenge."

Dúrion held her livid gaze for only a moment before dropping his eyes to the ground, having the sense to look ashamed. "If that is what you wish, Cellinn. I retract my comments."

"I accept such a retraction, for the sake of the lady," Legolas replied with a smirk.

_A little too arrogant_ , Cellinn thought, spinning to pierce him with her angry gaze. "Legolas, that is enough!" He actually looked taken back by her words. _Good!_

She turned back to Dúrion. "Please, will you leave us. I would speak privately with the prince." He nodded and with a last glare at Legolas, walked away, leaving Cellinn and Legolas alone in the garden.

They stared at each other for a moment, Cellinn noting the vivid pain in his eyes, but she was still angry about his display of masculine honor, and now was not the time to discuss what had happened between them prior. "How dare you!" she accused him angrily, placing a hand on her hip.

"How dare _ **I**_ _?_ " He looked incredulous. "Cellinn, I did not start this! Dúrion was the one making threats against my person. What would you have me do? Ignore it?" His voice had risen and now there was anger in his eyes directed at her.

" **YES**!" she yelled. "Jealousy does not become you, prince. Your challenging him did not improve matters, only made them worse…only hurt me worse," her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, her anger had drained and now she only felt the pain.

She felt him move closer, knew he would pull her into his arms, but at the present, she could not deal with the combined hurt and anger she felt, and she was so unsure of what _**he**_ felt, despite her strange longing. And if he held her, she would cry, and she could not do that, not in front of _**him**_.

She held out one hand, palm up, stopping him from coming any nearer. Steeling herself, she looked up. "If you will excuse me, I have nothing more to say." With great effort, she walked away, head held high, her eyes burning with the tears that refused to heed her wishes.

-o-

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ There was simply no other word for it, except, perhaps, idiot. _Aye, stupid idiot, that is what I am._ He had hurt her again, and it felt the same as stabbing himself in the heart with his dagger. _Most likely, the dagger would hurt less._

Finally able to get his feet to move from where Cellinn had left him, Legolas headed towards the privacy of the Queen's Garden. He needed to think, needed to find some way to stop hurting the lady he loved, needed to tell her how he felt. Arandur said it was too soon to spout words of love, but Legolas was not so sure.

Entering the garden, he walked the paths he had meandered with her that night, going over each detail in his mind of all that had happened. If his actions hurt her, that must mean she cared for him, right?

"My son, what troubles you?" The gentle voice caught him unawares.

Spinning around, he found his mother seated on the stone bench he and Cellinn had sat upon the night of her celebration. "Naneth," he whispered. Striding to the bench, he sat down beside her, leaning his head on her shoulder as he always did when they spoke of intimate matters.

Her hand came up to stroke his hair and face. "I cannot help you if you do not tell me of your burden, little one." Her voice was soft and tender, soothing to his injured heart.

"I do not know that you can, Naneth, but I will tell you. I hurt someone close to me without meaning to do so. It seems no matter how hard I try to let this friend know how I much care for her, I only succeed in hurting her."

"Her?"

Legolas swallowed thickly. He had not meant to give that part away, though his mother probably already knew what troubled him and was only seeking to get him to speak of it. Truly, was there anything she did not know when it concerned her family? He did not think so. "Aye."

"Legolas, in all my years of watching young ones fall in love, I have noticed that it seems most difficult between those who have been close friends for most of their lives. In the end, their relationships are the strongest, but during that time when both are still so unsure of their feelings, afraid to lose their friend to gain a lover, it is most difficult and filled with pain. You and Cellinn are no different."

"I love her, Naneth." His voice trembled. Her hand trailed from his hair to his shoulder and she pulled him into her arms as she had when soothing him as an elfling. It was strangely comforting. "I do not know how to make this right, to tell her how I feel. I just want to hold her, Naneth, and never let go."

"A nice thought, if unpractical." He lifted his head with a confused look and she smiled at him. "It is not easy to eat, fight with swords, or indeed perform any task with someone in your arms, Legolas."

His lips quirked. He could think of at least one thing. "I am unsure if she returns my feelings and that frightens me. Should I just tell her, Naneth.? Tell her I love her? I was going to try and show her, but I have yet to succeed with any of my ideas." Legolas searched his mother's eyes for the answer to his problem. She always had an answer.

She did not say a word; she simply looked over her shoulder, then glanced back into her son's eyes with a smile. "I am sure you will think of something, my Leaf."

Legolas cast his eyes back at the climbing wild roses behind them and felt hope rise within him as a small smile turned the corners of his lips. _Of course!_

-o-

After the unpleasant confrontation that morning, the beautiful and peaceful afternoon full of sunshine, singing birds and the smell of flowers soothed Cellinn's heart. She lay on her back on a blanket in the garden, her knees bent and an arm folded beneath her head, which was turned to the side towards her elbow to avoid the bright sunlight beating down on her. The day was very warm and pleasant, and she closed her eyes and sighed, letting the pain in her heart melt away as the sounds of nature filled her with peace.

A shadow fell across her face, and she frowned. Was her lovely day going to be overshadowed by rain? She had no wish to be caught in a sudden downpour, so she opened her eyes to see a pair of soft leather boots standing beside her. Her gaze traveled up the boots and over long legs and a firm torso, up over a small smile to meet bright grey eyes.

"Comfortable?" he asked in an amused tone. Her eyes locked with his, and she found her heart was now pounding in her chest. His smile spread across his face, and it seemed butterflies were now dancing within her stomach. His hands were behind his back. "I have something for you," he whispered in that tone of his.

She frowned, the flutter in her stomach replaced by an unpleasant sensation and a lump in her throat. Cellinn really did not think she could speak with him just yet, and his acting as if nothing had happened troubled her. Unable to face him, she broke away from his gaze by closing her eyes. "I don't want it. Please, just go away," she pleaded. "Please?"

There was silence for a moment, and she wondered if he had left. But he spoke again, softly, almost a whisper. "As you wish, my lady."

Something fluttered down beside her, brushing against her arm and causing her to flinch. She forced herself to remain still as she listened to his light footsteps on the path fade away. Opening her eyes, she slowly turned her head to see just what he had dropped.

She gasped when her eyes fell upon a scattering of flowers lying next to her on the blanket, a mixture of red and white wild roses — her favorite. Gathering them to herself, she let her tears flow freely. _Oh Legolas, what have I done?_

-o-

Minuialwen walked the halls with a mischievous smile upon her face. Sometimes a male needed a little female assistance. And she was just the one to shove and prod two of the silliest people she had ever met! How they could not see it, she could not fathom, though, she herself had not seen her own love for Arandur right away. It had taken her best friend meddling to make her see and understand her own heart.

She grinned and turned her steps towards Cellinn's chambers. Meddling was such fun!

-o-

It was another beautiful day, and yet he could not be found out of doors. Instead, Legolas sat in the library, quietly fingering the flute in his lap. The large room housed a reputable collection of books, and many of those living in the king's halls came to borrow the tomes, often sitting on the comfortable couches or at one of the tables with chairs about the room to read. It was also not uncommon for a musician to find a corner in which to lightly play while others read or conversed quietly.

Legolas ran a finger along the holes in the finely-crafted wooden flute. He remembered well when Cellinn had presented it to him for his coming of age a few years ago, and how he had laughed and told her he would never play an instrument. The pain in her eyes had prompted him to accept the gift and assure her he was only teasing. Over the past years, he had learned the instrument at his mother's prodding, mastering it over the past year and surprisingly, enjoying it, but he had never once played it for Cellinn. Perhaps, it was time to do so, yet he was unsure of how to proceed after yesterday's disaster. Arandur had been correct, jealousy would only procure her wrath and disdain, or worse, her acceptance of Dúrion's courtship.

Someone sat beside him on the settee and he turned to see Minuialwen. He sighed in relief. For a moment, he had feared it would be Ninglorwen. Minuialwen was welcome company, though her smile unsettled him a bit.

"Well, my brother, have you decided what to do?" His surprise must have been evident on his face for she laughed. "Oh do not look so shocked! I know nearly as much as your mother."

He gave her a lopsided grin and chuckled, looking back down at his flute. It figured she would know. Her next words caught his interest, drawing his eyes back up to her face.

"I have just come from Cellinn's rooms, and I could hardly believe what a beautiful bouquet of wild roses she has beside her bed. I wonder where she got them," she murmured, casting a sly glance over at him.

Legolas ignored her glance, and instead let a true smile grace his lips. His eyes drifted to the window overlooking the Queen's Garden, and he spoke, "So, she kept them. That is good."

"Ah, so it was you who bestowed such a lovely gift upon her," Minuialwen grinned. "Then you will be happy to know she is coming this direction with a book in hand. I do believe she is planning to read in here today. Perhaps, you should try wooing her with your flute?" When he blinked at her, she laid a hand on his arm. "It is obvious to all except the lady herself that you love her," she paused as the door across the room opened. "I wish you well, brother," she finished with a kiss to his cheek. Then stood and left him to contemplate what she had said as well as what she had not.

**To Be Continued…**


	8. Never Be The Same

Cellinn walked towards the library, a book held against her chest, her thoughts still on the flowers beside her bed. The roses were so beautiful, and she loved them, but the circumstances involved in obtaining them troubled her very much. Why had Legolas brought her flowers? Why had he given her the necklace? She had never known him to give such gifts to a lady. Why was he all of a sudden tripping over himself, saying or doing things that brought her pain? She shook her head, trying to throw off the nagging feeling that it should make sense. Over the years, even with all his stupid pranks, slimy creatures, and showing off — not once had he deliberately tried to hurt her. And _**never**_ had he seemed to lack confidence, yet now she could see his hesitation when he was around her. What had happened to their friendship? She had had such hopes the night they danced that things could return to the way they had been, but the fact remained clear that things would never be the same again. Something had changed, but she was unsure what it was.

_Yes, you are. You are just too afraid to admit it._

Where did that thought come from? Too afraid to admit what? But the voice chose to be silent. She sighed and cradled the book closer to her chest. Reading would help her forget the confusing feelings and thoughts.

_And the feel of his lips against yours…_

There it was again! Why would she think about that? He was only being nice! In all likelihood, he had just felt sorry for her for not having been kissed prior to that night. That would explain his hurried apology and begging her to forget it happened. He had acted in a moment of pity and was now unsure she would forgive him. Well, she would gladly do so if he would stop acting like an idiot long enough for her to get the words out!

_Then why did you not say anything when he gave you the flowers yesterday? You could have found him if you wanted._

If it would not cause a scene, Cellinn would beat her head against the wall in frustration. _Stupid voice!_ But at least now she was at the library and could exchange her book for another and lose herself in the pages. Maybe someone would even have an instrument to play as she read. She greatly enjoyed the times when someone would play a flute softly in the room. The notes resounded and lifted her heart. It was her love of the instrument that had prompted her to give Legolas a flute for his coming of age — his passion would give the instrument a melody like no other, not that he had ever learned to play it.

She stepped into the room and was pleased to see Minuialwen there. She hoped her friend could help her to stop thinking about the pain that seemed to pound with each heartbeat in her chest.

"Cellinn." Minuialwen walked forward with a smile, drawing her to the opposite corner of the library from where she usually sat. It was just as well. That corner had been where she and Legolas had spent much time discussing books…or their next prank. _Oh, I miss him!_

It was true. She had been very foolish to lose her temper and call off their friendship months ago. She had been even more the fool for returning his gift and walking away without letting him explain. There was no one dearer to her than Legolas, and how horrible to realize it now that their friendship was irrevocably changed. After the way she had treated him yesterday, she was sure he would not wish to speak with her again. Yet, he had still left the flowers, which brought her back to why he was acting so strange.

"Cellinn?" She looked up at Minuialwen, who wore an exasperated expression. "Cellinn, I asked you a question three times, and you did not even acknowledge me!"

"You did? Oh! I'm sorry! I - I was thinking about…some things." Cellinn stumbled over her words, giving her friend an apologetic look.

Minuialwen shook her head. "Why can't the two of you just admit you love each other?" she asked quietly.

"Excuse me?" Cellinn's heart skipped a beat then made up for it by pounding double-time beneath her breast. Surely Minuialwen was not suggesting what she thought she was suggesting? No. Even if she could admit to herself that she was in love with Legolas, and she was not sure that was the case, there was no way he felt the same. _Or does he? Would that explain…_

The soft sound of a flute came from the far corner of the library, the melody haunting yet beautiful. She had never heard the song before. Minuialwen glanced at her and smiled. "Follow your heart and see where it takes you." And standing, the princess excused herself and left the room.

_Follow my heart?_ Right now all she wanted to do was find out who was playing such a lovely song and forget all the troubling thoughts about a certain baffling prince. Leaving her book on the settee, she rose and sought the musician.

Her steps stumbled to a halt as she neared the corner, for seated in Legolas's and her spot with his back towards her, the golden-haired musician continued to play, the notes ringing pure and sweet, almost beckoning her to come closer. It could not be… _Legolas_? But she would recognize his form anywhere, even from the back.

Her heart pounded faster and her stomach did a flip. She _was_ in love with him, she realized. She had been for a long time. She could not imagine loving anyone else! They were a matched pair, never far from each other even when they were angry at each other, though if memory served, it was usually she that was irate with him. It was rare indeed for Legolas to become angry with her. He tolerated a lot and still wanted to be her friend. The dawning revelations caused her breathing to hitch.

The music stopped.

Slowly, the silvery-blonde head turned and his bright grey eyes sought hers. Legolas smiled a bit stiffly, as if unsure of himself. Her eyes dropped to the flute she had given him, still grasped in his hand.

"I did not know that you had learned to play it at all, let alone well enough to compose your own songs." She felt amazed that he had done so. She looked up at him and noted the pride in his face.

" _ **You**_ gave it to me. Of course, I learned to play it," he told her, but then he frowned. "Though, I did not master it until…until you sent me away. Then it became very important, as it was one of the few things I had to remind me of you."

Cellinn's heart flipped again when he said that. She moved close enough to gently touch his cheek. "What happened to us, Legolas? We used to be so close…even when we bickered, it was never like this." She paused, stroking his jaw as her eyes traveled over his beloved features. "I miss you," she finished, her voice a breathy whisper.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her up against a firm, warm chest. After a few moments, he spoke. "I struggle to find my place in your life, as we are no longer children and much has changed. But in doing so, I have hurt you. I never meant to hurt you, Cellinn. I would rather run myself through with my own sword, than cause you pain."

"I know," she whispered, bringing her hand up to rest on his chest next to where her cheek rested against his shoulder. "And I have only caused you grief."

He took a deep breath and released it in a rush of air that stirred her hair. His fingers followed to stroke the strands. "Do you ever wonder why you cause me such grief?" he asked softly.

Cellinn could hear a slight tremble in his voice, and then she knew without doubt. He loved her! She shook her head, smiling against his tunic. "I do not wonder. I believe I know, though you do not speak it, and I have not dared to dwell on it out of fear."

His fingers stilled, and he pulled back, his arms still surrounding her shoulders. She could feel the flute still held in one hand pressing against her back. She looked up, and he gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then that crooked smile she loved so much spread across his face.

The next thing Cellinn knew, she was being kissed. The flute slipped from his fingers to the settee behind him, and gentle fingers wandered her face, tracing her brow, her cheek, her jaw. His other hand came to rest against her lower back, urging her closer. She complied, her arms slipping around his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair as he deepened the kiss; his fingers gliding down to lightly caress her throat.

Then he withdrew just enough to whisper against her lips, "I love you," before pressing against them again in another soft kiss.

Her breath hitched, and she tilted her face away to press her cheek against his. His arms slipped back around her, drawing her tight against him. She placed light kisses along his cheek until she reached just below his ear. "I love you, too," she whispered into it, gasping when his lips found hers again.

Long fingers of one hand sank into her hair and cradled her head, as tender caresses on her back became more insistent. Cellinn's fingers wandered his throat and back, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. Legolas pressed into it, lightly sucking her bottom lip between his own and caressing it with his tongue before releasing her to place tiny kisses on the corner of her mouth and cheek. She sighed when he rested his face against hers, nuzzling against her before pulling back to meet her gaze. The love in his eyes nearly caused her to cry, and then he smiled without reserve. "Forgive me?" he asked. "I have been quite the idiot."

Cellinn laughed, bringing a hand to cover her mouth in her mirth, all pain and reservation falling from her in light of their proclaimed love. She dropped her hand. "Indeed, you have, but no more than I. We have both been foolish, and I am sure we shall be again." Her voice broke then, and her expression sobered as she realized it was true. They would hurt each other again, for all who loved each other did. "But I will always love you and forgive you," she promised.

-o-

Much to Legolas's surprise his day had taken a most pleasant turn. He found himself locked in an embrace that made his heart pound and spirit soar, and he felt like himself again, open and honest, able to tell this girl anything. So, he started by asking her forgiveness for being an idiot. And she laughed! She laughed, and the sound filled the library; and he found he could not help but laugh with her, rather than be offended, for he understood her mirth.

But then she sobered as she admitted it was only a matter of time before they hurt each other again. He knew it was true, and he hated it, yet as she promised to love and forgive, he recognized her wisdom, and that such an oath would see them through those times. His mother had confided once that over the years, as two people came to understand each other more and more, the less they caused each other harm through careless words or deeds. And he had already begun to learn this.

"And I will always love you, and accept your forgiveness, for surely now that I have your love, you will do me no harm!" He grinned when she narrowed her eyes at his teasing. "You will always have my forgiveness, my love," he reassured her, "though seldom have you caused me pain. I fear it is I who angers and hurts you. I'm sorry. I don't mean to do so."

She threw her arms around his neck, and he thrilled at the feel of her in his arms. _It's where she belongs._ "No, Legolas. I have been too quick to take offense. Forgive me. I shall learn to accept you - all of you – even when you take my horse…"

She grinned at him, but he shook his head where it rested against her crown. "No; it was wrong of me to have taken her and run her so. My father took me to task over that. He admonished me over the importance of treating another's things as better than my own. And that is how I shall treat you; better than myself." He smiled down at her, meaning every word.

She bit her lip, eyes shining up at him. He reached into the inner pocket of his tunic, next to his heart, and pulled out the fine chain supporting the elvish knot pendant with the bright sapphire at its center. He smiled when she gasped. "Will you accept this from me now, as a token of my love?"

She nodded and turned, lifting her hair. He placed the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp. Lowering her hands, he turned her to admire the pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. "Beautiful," he whispered, letting his eyes caress her face. "Would you walk with me?" he asked. "I remembered there is someone I'd very much like you to meet, though I do not doubt you have heard of her." He chuckled to himself.

Cellinn pulled back from their embrace and smiled. "Indeed, I have heard of this monster you brought home! The cooks cannot keep food from her, she tramples your mother's flowers, your brother threatened to put an arrow in her for getting muddy footprints all over Minuialwen's new tapestry…" she laughed. "I cannot wait to meet Draugris! I think I shall love her dearly!"

"Yes, I think you shall, and with some more training she will make herself useful. She is only a half grown pup, after all. We must not expect too much of her." He picked up his flute, took her hand and led her from the library, stopping at his rooms where he quickly slipped in to leave the instrument.

Together they walked to the kennels, to which his beast had been sent after being banished from the halls by the king for her bad behavior. And as they walked, he noted the eyes that followed them, lingering on their meshed fingers, the sparkling pendant and to his chagrin, the occasional light kisses that accompanied a couple in love, for he could not stop himself from kissing her at every opportunity.

-o-

When Arandur entered their chambers, Minuialwen smiled sweetly up at him from her place, her needlework dropping to her lap as their eyes met. He paused in the doorway and frowned. That look… He knew that look. "Whatever it is, the answer is no. I have had a difficult day, my love. Please do not ask much of me!" he pleaded.

She shook her head with a wry smile. "Oh, do come in and close the door, Arandur. I assure you, I have nothing for you to do. I merely have good news that you may find quite interesting."

Arandur did as she asked, moving to her side and stooping to place a quick kiss on her lips before sitting beside her and drawing her against him. "Truly? Well, good news is good news!" They both laughed at his joke, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Good news might require some celebrating, though he would have to carry her to their bedchamber as this settee was much to small for what he had in mind. "And what news do you ha—" he halted as a strange suspicion occurred to him. Pulling back a bit, he stared at her. "Minuialwen! Tell me you are not with child!"

She blinked, a confused expression replacing her mirth of moments before. "I am not with child," she told him matter-of-factly before her expression changed. "Why would you think such a thing?" she asked in exasperation, shaking her head and pulling away from him. "Never mind! I am sure even _**you**_ don't know why your head works the way it does!" And crossing her arms, she turned her back on him.

Arandur sat blinking in stunned silence for a couple of moments. Well, he was certainly an idiot! He sighed, then leaned against her, placing small kisses in her hair and along her cheek, hoping to get back into her good graces. Of course she was not with child! He would have sensed it, known it just from looking at her! Oh, it had been a long day! "Forgive me, Minuialwen. I could not imagine what other news would be so exciting! I wasn't thinking."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and he saw her lips twitch. "Obviously." He leaned around to kiss her on the lips, first softly, then with more insistence. When she sighed into his mouth, he pulled back and gave her his best pleading look. She laughed. "Very well, I forgive you."

He grinned. "So, what then is the good news you have, my wife? Shall I tickle it out of you?" and he began to wriggle his fingers against her sides. She shrieked and tried to escape, but he held her fast against him. After much pleading, he ceased and held her as they caught their breath.

Arandur was nuzzling into her hair, completely forgetting whatever news she had and thinking more about the comfortable bed in the next room when Minuialwen turned to him, excitement in her eyes. "Arandur, you will never believe it, but those two sulky love birds have finally admitted they love each other!"

Arandur froze, astonished by her declaration. " _ **Our**_ two love birds?" She nodded, grinning up at him. "And how did this occur?" he asked. Last he had heard, the two in question were still avoiding each other.

Minuialwen's grin turned sensual as her fingers slipped over his chest. "Why, it simply required a woman's intervention, of course!"

_A woman's—_

But her caresses distracted him from any further thought for a time.

**To Be Continued…**


	9. Anger and Hurt

_**10 years later…** _

_**Summer** _

_Where is he?_ Cellinn stamped her foot on the forest floor. Legolas should have met her over an hour ago at their tree. And as usual, he was late, which was why she was so irritated now. Their time together had been limited over the past ten years due to his training, and they only had a short time to be together today — less than an hour now! — before he had to report for training.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying hard not to become angry. The last thing she wanted to do was to fight with her beloved when they had so little time as it was. And she knew how much he loved training for the guard; she had no wish to become a hindrance to something so important to him. The training was very intense the first ten years, but soon, in another few months, it would get easier. But for now, it was demanding enough that when they did have time, he was exhausted, often falling asleep with his head in her lap. She sighed. Not that she minded twining her fingers through his hair while he slept, but she would like some time with him awake!

She sat down with her back against the tree trunk and waited, filling the time by musing about why he could be late. Another half an hour passed, and with no sign of him, Cellinn gave up. If he showed up at this point, he deserved to find her missing!

Angry and hurt, she made her way back to the halls, feeling dejected. It didn't help when she passed Ninglorwen, who gave her a knowing smirk that caused Cellinn's stomach to churn for a moment. She moved on, refusing to entertain the thought that Legolas had spent any time with _**that**_ lady! Ninglorwen was simply jealous and doing all she could to come between them. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last, she was sure.

Cellinn hurried on, passing someone at a cross in the stone paths, but she took no note of who it was until he called her name.

"Cellinn! Cellinn, wait!"

She looked up into Arandur's eyes to see them filled with dismay. Her hurt and anger shifted swiftly to concern. "What is wrong! Is Legolas hurt? Is that why he did not meet me?" Her voice became breathless with worry, but the prince shook his head.

"No, to my knowledge he is well, but he bade me tell you he was called away with his troop on a surprise drill in the forest. They will be gone for two days at least. He had no time to find you and knew you would worry. But I was called into Saelvathor's office as I was looking for you, and was just dismissed. I'm so sorry!"

She frowned, a cold weight dropping in the pit of her stomach. "Had no time?"

Arandur sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Legolas might have explained that he could be called away unexpectedly, especially at this point in his training."

"Yes, he should have done so," she agreed, her anger rising again. "Two days?" Arandur nodded. "Thank you." She turned to leave, but he called after her.

"Do not be too hard on him Cellinn. The training is very trying."

She nodded, aware that Arandur would know just how trying it could be, but kept walking. Difficult or not, he should have told her! Should have prepared her for such things! She stormed her way to her rooms and slammed the door, refusing to speak to her mother and even refusing Minuialwen's visit a little while later. She felt too out of sorts and had no inclination to be soothed.

-o-

Legolas dropped his pack on the chair and looked longingly at his bed. The two day exercise had become a week-long test to see if they were ready to move on to the next step in the training. Relieved as he was that he had passed, he wanted nothing to do with the celebrating. He wanted to climb in his bed and sleep for a whole day…a week! Only—

He looked at his flute on his dressing table, then back at his bed. What he wanted more than anything was to climb in his bed and find Cellinn there; to lay beside her while she stroked his hair and rubbed his sore muscles. To kiss the soft skin of her neck, while trailing his fingers....

He groaned as his thoughts caused his body to react in ways he could not act on. _STOP IT!_ he mentally shouted at himself. _You will_ _ **not**_ _do this to yourself_! He removed his weapons, putting them dutifully away, and dropped to the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. Nearly fourteen years he had waited, and now...

He closed his eyes and smiled. Now, he could put his plans in motion! He had passed the trials and was moving up to the next phase of training, instruction that gave him more free time — time for a wife, if he wished it. And he did. With all his heart, he did.

Foregoing sleep and even a bath, Legolas washed with a wet cloth, combed his hair – grateful to leave it loose for the first time in a week – and dressed in clean clothing. Feeling refreshed, he went in search of his beloved, a dreamy smile on his face, his thoughts on how to ask her to marry him.

-o-

"Cellinn!"

A welcome voice, yet anger still stirred in her breast. Instead of two days, he had been gone a week. _A week!_ And in that time, her anger and hurt had grown, for she dwelt on the lack of time they'd had together in the last several years. It was not what she wanted.

She wanted time alone with him, to speak of their hopes and dreams, to have his undivided attention She wanted to show him her latest tapestry and listen to him play the flute. She wanted to be near him, at his side, walking the gardens hand in hand or splashing each other in the cold creek. She wanted to sit in their tree and talk as they used to do. She wanted to be a part of him. Turning, she faced him as he climbed up into their tree beside her, but she didn't return his smile.

"Cellinn?" He started to lean in, paused a moment to meet her eyes, then settled his back against the trunk so that he was facing her instead. "You are angry with me."

When she met his eyes, she could see her pain reflected, and some of her anger melted away, leaving her hurting and confused. "No... Yes. I don't know. It hurts." He reached over and took her hand, rubbing it soothingly with a finger, and she continued. "Yes, I'm angry, but I'm not sure why I'm angry. You should have warned me that you'd be could be called away unexpectedly!" When he opened his mouth to protest she shook her head. "But you've been so worn out, it's no wonder you didn't think to do so. And it's not your fault you had to leave when we had plans. It is not your fault we have so little time together. I just...I'm tired of you not being there! Of it not being like it was..." She dropped her eyes to their joined hands, feeling somewhat ashamed. She knew she was being childish, yet her heart still ached.

"Linnaew, look at me." She raised her eyes again, her heart thudding in her chest. It had been a long time since he'd called her that.

"The day I came of age, I took up duties as prince, though when with you, I remained a child a little longer. But we are no longer children, love." He tilted his chin, as if informing her of something she should already know. "I am a prince. I am striving to be a warrior. I thought you understood what my life entailed. I want to be with you...always, but...there will be times, many times, I cannot be. I would like to think you will be here waiting for me, but if y-you can't…." He pulled his hand away and looked past her, swallowing hard.

Her heart froze in her chest, feeling like a great cold lump, its icy shards reaching up to prick her throat. Tears misted her eyes. "What are you saying?"

He did not look at her. "If my life and duties are too much for you, if you no longer wish..." His voice broke.

How she wished she was not so selfish! She threw herself at him, landing in his arms that lifted in surprise to catch her. Her head fell to rest against his chest while tears slipped down her cheeks. She wondered if they were cursed to always hurt each other. "No!" she told him. "I love you, Galass. I always have. I've been selfish and childish, and I'm sorry!"

A hand stroked through her hair, and she felt his sigh of relief and kiss on the crown of her head. "I'm glad. I wouldn't be of any use to anyone if you put me away now." He chuckled, but she could feel his heart was not in it.

"Legolas, I accept your life. It is not that. We...we used to talk more, do things. Now...I know the training is hard, but you are so tired when we are together— I feel alone, even when you are there," she finished in a whisper.

His arms tightened around her, and she felt him release a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. But I have good news, Linn." He pulled away, and she sat back, waiting for him to explain. A huge grin chased the sorrow on his face. "I passed the trials!"

"The trials?" She frowned in confusion. The trials should have been months from now. "But..."

He laughed. "They are held without announcement. We did not expect them for several months, but Saelvathor likes to take the trainees off guard."

She smiled at his happy expression and leaned in to kiss him soundly on the lips. "I'm proud of you," she told him, smiling into his eyes then kissing him again. 'And now?"

He nodded. "Now, we can spend more time together. Talking," he added, but there was sadness in his eyes she did not understand.

'Lass? What is it?" Concern filled her. "You do not wish to talk?"

He laughed, but the sadness remained. "Aye, I wish to talk very much, it's just..."

"What?"

"Nothing time won't solve, love. Do not let it worry you."

Cellinn pondered what he said, but she could not make sense of it. Seeing how uncomfortable he looked, she let it go, and instead, snuggled back into his arms...to talk.

-o-

The noises surrounded him, vibrations shook him, and the smell of sweat and earth and metal filled his nostrils as Legolas sparred with his father.

_Clang...clink...chink._

_Grunt...CRASH!_

_Swoosh....clang....swish._

_Groan._

"Step back!"

S _huffle...swoosh....clink...clang._

_Clang...chink._

_Exhale...rustle...clang...._

_"_ Swing up, and advance."

_Swoosh...clang...clang._

"Ooof!"

_Skitter........CLATTER!_

Legolas faced his father, who stood a couple of inches taller than himself, feeling quite awed at what had just happened.. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he heaved for air.

Thranduil smirked, laughed and bowed with dramatic flair. "I cede. Your game."

Legolas inclined his head and lowered his sword, glancing at it with wonder. "How did I do that?" he asked, looking to where his father's sword lay a few feet away on the ground.

"I have not a clue!" Thranduil laughed, hardly winded. He stepped forward and clasped Legolas firmly on the shoulder. "Arandur has never managed it, nor has Norbor." Legolas's eyebrows rose. "Not even Saelvathor has managed it in the last three centuries." Thranduil grinned. "But I will tell you this." He leaned close to Legolas as if conspiring. "Since I became king, only you and one other have ever disarmed me."

Legolas gaped. That just could not be possible. "Who? Who else?"

A warm, delighted smile spread across Thranduil's face. "Your mother."

"Naneth? She knows the ways of a sword?" His father nodded. "And she disarmed you?" Such was…unbelievable! But he received another nod. "But...but how?"

"Not as you did, that is for sure." Thranduil laughed. "I don't know where you pulled that move from, but it was quite impressive." Legolas beamed at the praise, while Thranduil continued. "No, your mother used an old and ancient move to beat me." His father leaned further in until his lips hovered right at Legolas's ear, but he did not speak.

"What move?" Legolas whispered, very curious about his mother's secrets.

"She distracted me."

Legolas blinked. _Since when was distraction part of sword fighting?_ "Distracted you? How?"

Thranduil pulled back and grinned. "As only a woman can, my son." A wicked gleam in those green eyes caused a chill of apprehension to run down Legolas's spine. "She did not fasten her tunic all the way up, and I...er, had more on my mind than swords." Thranduil's grin turned roguish. "Well, metal ones in any case."

"Adar!" Legolas felt his cheeks flush and his ears began to burn. He really did not want to know such details!

"It was shortly after that sparring match that you were conceived." Thranduil winked at him.

"ADAR!"

Howling with laughter, Thranduil wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, Legolas! If only you could see your face."

Legolas drew away and sheathed his sword, walking over to where a water skin hung from a tree branch. He took a long swallow, letting it soothe his throat and cool him down. Replacing it, he turned, hoping his face color had returned to normal. "This is not a subject I want to discuss, Adar."

"Oh? Not interested in such things yet, my son?" Thranduil smirked, sheathing his retrieved sword. "Arandur showed great interest in such things long before he came of age, but you... You have never asked much Legolas. I told you the basics, but you never questioned, never sought advice, never...confided." Thranduil's eyes dropped and his shoulders slumped.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Legolas regarded his father. Thranduil loved him, of that he had no doubt, but he never felt the same ease as had Arandur when it came to discussing certain issues. "I talk to Naneth," he blurted out.

His father's eyes shot up, and his mouth fell open. "You...you talk to your mother?" Legolas nodded. "About what, may I ask?" He hurried on. "I mean, she is a wonderful confidant, I know, but she...well, there are things she just cannot understand, son. Am I making any sense here?"

Legolas began to laugh. He could not help it. For once, his father was the one turning red in the face and sputtering. "Yes, Adar, you are. But to be honest, the questions I had were best answered by a lady."

The horrified look on Thranduil's face was priceless. "And what questions were those, or do I dare ask?"

Shaking his head, he had mercy. "Simple questions about the physical differences between girls and boys when I was young but, more recently, for advice on the inner workings of a lady's heart." He unbuckled his sword and hung it on the branch with his water skin. Pulling himself up into the oak, he settled back on a limb, feeling free all of a sudden to tell his father what he thought and felt. Legolas looked down and met Thranduil's eyes. "I love her, Ada, so very much. I want to marry her, have wanted to since you suggested it, but..."

Thranduil unbuckled his sword as well, hanging it on the branch beside Legolas's, and heaved himself up to sit across from him. "But?"

"But the timing was wrong. Training demanded enough of me without adding a wife to my life." Legolas looked up at an acorn dangling from a twig above his head, thinking of Cellinn and her reaction to his time constraints. He might be ready, but she was not. "We still have much to learn of one another before we wed. I have learned that more than ever. I don't want to rush. I want it to be right. We are young, and we have plenty of time."

A chuckle brought his eyes back to Thranduil. "You have most definitely been talking to your mother!"

Legolas grinned sheepishly. "Well, she's usually right."

His father nodded. "That she is."

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**'Galass'** 'plant' Cellinn's pet name for Legolas, a baby pronunciation with the added benefit of meaning something. Sometimes she calls him just **Lass** , 'leaf'.

**'Linnaew'** 'songbird' Legolas's pet name for Cellinn', sometimes just **Linn** , 'song'. 


	10. His Plans

_**Five years later…** _

_**Late Summer** _

The book lay unheeded in his lap, for though his eyes were upon the words, they did not register in his mind. His thoughts instead were on his plans for the next few days, and the more Legolas considered those plans, the more his heart raced with excitement. So absorbed was he that he failed to note the arrival of another person, soft skirts swishing softly, becoming the sound of rushing leaves in his mind.

"I have read that book, and it is not very interesting. I am surprised you are so caught up in it." Her voice, unexpected, caused him to jump, and the book started to slide from his lap. He caught it with deft fingers, grinning sheepishly at her as she sat beside him on the padded, high-backed bench, looking at him knowingly.

"In truth, I have no idea what it is about. I was lost in thought."

Cellinn laughed. "I never would have guessed," she teased, accepting his hand when he reached for her. "Where did your thoughts take you then?"

"They led me to how I shall spend the next few days, as we have been given them off to rest." He pulled her fingers to his lips, kissing them softly before lowering their entwined hands to his thigh.

Face brightening at his words, Cellinn leaned in to place a kiss upon his cheek. "Perhaps you will join me for a picnic tomorrow in the garden? The flowers are so lovely, and the roses are in full bloom. I would very much like to spend the day just talking. I have missed you."

Legolas closed his eyes, a slight grimace tightening his features a moment. When he opened them, he could see a flash of hurt in her eyes. "I would enjoy such a day very much, love, but I fear I am already committed." Her eyes dropped to her lap, and she sighed softly. "Cellinn..."

She glanced up and smiled, ignoring the plea in his voice, "It is well, Legolas," she soothed. "May I know what takes you from me? Or perhaps you grow weary of my presence?"

"Never!" He knew she teased, but he also knew his other plans caused her pain, though she would accept them with grace and understanding. He loved her for it. The last couple years they had both matured, comfortable in the unspoken courtship. With his free hand, he traced her cheek and down her jaw. "I promised Arandur I would accompany him on a trip into the wood. It is long since we have had time to spend together in such things." He grinned. "I think he fears once the child is born, he will never have time to do such again."

She laughed, the bright sound causing several in the library to glance their way with disapproval. "I still can hardly believe Minuialwen is with child. But she is not even showing signs of it yet! Surely, he is not fearful already?"

Chuckling, he nodded. "Aye, he is terrified! And to be honest, I cannot picture him as a father, though I can easily see Minuialwen with a babe in her arms." The wistful softness in Cellinn's eyes startled him. "Linnaew?"

She smiled, shaking her head a bit. "I suppose I envy her somewhat. Happily wed for many years, and finally beginning the family she has always wanted. Do you not ever wish for such things, Lass?"

Her question must have been spoken before she considered what she asked, for a deep blush darkened her cheeks, and she ducked her head away from him. But instead of embarrassment, he felt delight. With firm fingers, he turned her chin so she had to look at him. "I do consider such things. And one day..." He captured her lips in a soft kiss, then pulled her closer and rested his cheek against hers. The swell of emotions left them both breathless a short time, then faded to a warm feeling of contentment.

A cleared throat brought them back to the library where they sat observed by many. He placed a kiss on her cheek and pulled away, putting an acceptable distance between them. Meeting her eyes, which were twinkling with amusement, he asked, "Would you like me to cancel my plans so I might attend this picnic of yours?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Go enjoy your brother while you may. We will have plenty of time to have picnics in the garden. Arandur is correct; his life will change dramatically before he knows it, and the two of you will find yourselves on different ground once more."

"Thank you." Squeezing her fingers, he stood, pulling her up with him. "But since we do not leave until tomorrow, I am all yours for the rest of the day."

A delicate, dark brow arched upwards, her head tilting as a suggestive smirk turned her lips, and to his horror, Legolas felt his face warm considerably.

-o-

"But why?" Cellinn asked, looking at Minuialwen, feeling exasperated with both her friend and herself for being talked into such a thing. "Why must it be me?"

"Because I need to practice my painting and you are a wonderful subject." The princess maneuvered her onto the bench before the climbing roses in the Queen's garden. "Besides," Minuialwen continued when Cellinn fidgeted. "It is not as if you have anything better to do with Legolas away with Arandur."

"True. But I do not like posing for portraits."

"I know; but you do enjoy dressing up, and this is a good opportunity for showing off your new gown. It would be sitting in your wardrobe for months otherwise."

Cellinn rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

"Oh, that makes a pretty picture," Minuialwen declared. "Let me paint that!"

"Don't you dare!" she called from her place as Minuialwen returned to her easel and palette.

Cellinn sat for what felt like hours as Minuialwen worked on the canvas. The princess would look at her, then look back to the canvas and add some strokes of her brush, before repeating the process over and over.

When she felt she could take no more, she stood, only to receive a cry of alarm. "You mustn't move, Cellinn! It will ruin the painting!"

"But I am tired of sitting, Minuialwen. My legs are cramping and I'm bored. Can't I fetch a book to read while you work?" Her friend bit her lip, and Cellinn turned to look at the roses behind her, the fingers of one hand reaching up to caress the pendant hanging from its chain around her neck . "Please?"

There was a few moments hesitation, and then, "All right, but hurry! You wouldn't want to upset a pregnant lady, now would you?"

Cellinn laughed as she left to find a good long book.

-o-

Legolas sat back to enjoy a few minutes of relaxation. He had been busy all morning, but the progress he made was worth it. He looked fondly at the painting in front of him, then glanced back down into the garden from his hiding place on a balcony. His plan was working perfectly, and unless Cellinn looked up and in just the right spot, she would never see him here.

She had not yet returned from retrieving a book. Minuialwen waved up at him, and he stood, stretched and waved back, then stepped into the room beyond so he would not be discovered if his beloved returned. Legolas used the break from painting to pour himself a cup of juice, which his mother had brought not long ago. It was still cool and refreshed him. Grabbing a slice of bread, he drizzled honey over its soft center then sunk his teeth into it. He chewed it quickly and gulped the remainder of his juice. His mother would hate such manners, but thankfully he was alone.

Ducking back out onto the balcony, he found Cellinn seated in her spot on the bench, head bowed slightly to read the book in her lap. Could there ever be a lovelier picture? His heart filled with emotion as he pictured a little boy playing at her feet.

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, he returned to his work. If he was lucky, Cellinn would agree to sit for Minuialwen again tomorrow. Thankfully, he could come back and paint the rest of the surroundings without her. For now, he concentrated on the flow of her skirt over her hips and smiled.

Minuialwen eventually had to let Cellinn leave. Legolas set his paints aside, covering them carefully. He had made good progress, and even if Cellinn did not sit for Minuialwen again the next day, Legolas was confident he could finish the painting from memory. Slipping through a hidden opening, he walked down a secret hallway, coming out into the dusky air of the mountain. No one would see him from this little known exit as he made his way back to the campsite where Arandur waited.

-o-

"I _**cannot**_ sit here another minute!"

Minuialwen sighed, her arm aching from the effort she was putting forth. Legolas owed her for this! Then she remembered that she had volunteered. "Maybe if we take a break?" she asked, hoping to keep Cellinn seated for a little longer. She had no idea how far along Legolas was with the real painting, and she thought to stall just a bit longer.

But Cellinn would have none of it. She stood to her feet. "I cannot see how painting me can take this long! Our family portrait only took two days and there were three of us!" She marched over to Minuialwen, who panicked.

"No! You cannot come over here and look until it is finished!" She held up a hand, but Cellinn was not stopping.

Ducking around Minuialwen's arm, Cellinn came to face the painting, freezing when she saw it. Her jaw dropped and her face paled. "Minuialwen! This...this is ..."

"Horrible, I know." Minuialwen sighed. "And that is why I need the practice." It was a lame excuse and she knew it, but neither she nor Legolas had considered this possibility.

"Practice?" Cellinn squeaked. "I think you need lessons! It is just a blur of colors. I sat here for two days for a blur of colors?"

Minuialwen grimaced. "Maybe it will catch on and become popular?"

Cellinn shook her head. "I doubt it," she said, turning to look at a stricken Minuialwen. "Oh! Oh, Minuialwen! I did not mean to insult your work!"

Smiling stiffly, Minuialwen pretended to show her upset was caused by Cellinn's comments. "It is alright, dear. I am sorry I made you do this. Perhaps I should give up on painting and stick to tapestries."

Pulling her into an embrace, Cellinn agreed.

-o-

Above the friends, Legolas sighed in relief. He had nearly panicked when Cellinn had marched over to see Minuialwen's work. He would have to thank his brother's wife later for her quick thinking. Looking at his own painting, he nodded. It was enough. He would complete it in the following days as time allowed. His parents would see to it that he had plenty of 'official' duties to keep him occupied while he completed his gift.

Glancing down into the garden, he noted the ladies had left. Standing, he stretched, taking one last look at his work before he moved everything into his private workroom. Once his brushes were clean and all was put away, he returned to his brother to spend a night jesting and eating whatever Arandur had hunted that day. He hoped it was venison; but as hungry as he was, he would eat pretty much anything.

_**Several weeks later…** _

"And then Minuialwen told him to get out, that she had had enough! And so he spent the night in my rooms, fretting over whether she would be all right or not. I keep telling him she will be fine, but he continues to worry! I fear it is making her a little…irritated."

Cellinn laughed, imagining well what her friend would have told Arandur at his insistence that she stay in bed and let him wait on her. "Perhaps in time he will not worry so much. After all, babies have been coming into the world long before the moon rose."

"I have tried to tell him that," Legolas said with a chuckle, "but he insists those were not _**his**_ children, and he is taking no chances. However," his expression sobered, "it is the last time he stays with me! He paced and grumbled all night, and I hardly got any rest. I needed it too, with having to speak to…." He broke off, looking a little startled, as if he just realized what he was saying.

"Speak to whom?" she asked him curiously.

"Er…it's nothing. Just an errand I have to do, and speaking of, I need to get to it. Perhaps I'll see you at dinner?"

She watched him for a moment, trying to discern why he seemed so nervous, but decided to let it go. More than likely it had to do with his duties as prince, which were increasing during a break in his training. "Yes, I'll be there. You could always stop by my rooms and walk with me, you know." She smiled when he leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek.

"I will," he promised, and then he was gone, walking out of the library with determined steps. Her eyes stayed on the empty doorway a moment longer, then she shrugged and went back to reading the book in her lap that she had been enjoying before her beloved slipped into the library to spend a few minutes with her. But his interruption had unsettled her, and she could not renew her interest in the tale, so placing it back on the shelf, she decided a walk through the garden would be nice before she returned to her family's rooms to put the finishing touches on a surprise for Legolas - a tapestry she had designed herself.

As soon as she entered her family's rooms, she knew something was up. Her mother, looking startled, glanced up from where she was seated in the front hall, and then she spoke a little _**too**_ loudly. "Cellinn! You are home early."

She frowned, wondering why her mother would be sitting here, rather than in the more comfortable sitting room. This room was formal and rarely used. "I decided to finish working on the tapestry today. It is almost complete, and I would have it ready." She paused, noting as her mother darted looks toward the closed door of the sitting room, the room she needed to walk through to get to the chamber she and her mother used for sewing. "Naneth? Is something wrong?"

"No! No, child. You go ahead. Just…your father has company."

"Oh." Not unusual for the king's chief advisor, but something about the situation made her hesitate. "I'll just slip quietly through then." And so she would have done, had she not glanced up to see just who her father's 'visitor' was. The guest's shocked grey eyes caused her to halt. "Legolas?"

Both men stood when they realized she was there. "Cellinn, I was just…um.. speaking to your father about….um…"

"He is here on the king's business about a petition, daughter. Nothing to concern your pretty head over." Her father gave her a wink, and she immediately felt at ease, though Legolas's stuttering response caused her to wonder.

"Well," she said with a smile, "I won't disrupt you. I'll just pass through, and you can continue your discussion."

"Oh, we are finished," her father said, causing Legolas's head to jerk as his eyes sought Angalar's gaze.

"You have decided then?"

"Indeed."

Cellinn watched the two with veiled amusement, for she had never really seen Legolas in an official capacity before with her father. He looked very nervous.

"And what is your answer, Lord Angalar?"

"You may tell the king I concur with the petition and will be there to show my support when it is brought before the court."

Cellinn was taken aback when Legolas bowed humbly, surprise and relief in his face. "Thank you!" Then, he walked over to her and placed a kiss on her lips _right in front of her father!_

She blinked a few times then turned to look at her father who was grinning like an idiot. "Cellinn," he waved to the door, "see the prince out." And he sat back in his chair, looking a bit too much like the fox that has caught the squirrel.

She glanced at Legolas as she walked toward the door, but he seemed to be almost unaware of her, lost in his thoughts. As they reached the door, she opened it. "Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

"What petition? And why are you acting in the role of an advisor?"

That got his attention. He looked at her a moment, and then sighed. "Part of my duties from time to time is to act as an advisor, but in this case… there is a matter to be brought up in court on the morrow, and let's just say, I need your father's approval in the matter, otherwise…well, I have it, and that is all that matters."

This was all new to her, though she supposed it should not be. Her entire life had been lived on the edge of the court. Her father's position as Thranduil's chief advisor had made her friendship with the youngest prince natural – a friendship that had them completely at ease in each other's home or formal settings. But Cellinn, although being exposed to it all around her, had never paid it much mind in her youth. Legolas had been her playmate, then her friend, and was now her beloved…but her prince? She knew he was, and yet, did not. He was just her Legolas.

And now he was taking his place in the court, going about his father's business, and for the most part, she had paid it no heed. How thoughtless of her! "Tomorrow?" she asked. When Legolas nodded, she continued. "Then I shall be there to support you as well."

" _NO_!"

His response took her completely off guard. _No?_ "But…Legolas, I know I have not shown much interest before, but I do wish to support you in your duties as prince." It sounded like the right thing to say…however—

"No. Do not come tomorrow, Cellinn. Please!"

Now she was beginning to get concerned. Was he in some sort of dilemma? Was that what the petition was about? But the king usually handled such matters privately unless… "Are you in involved in some trouble?"

He gave her an odd look, but shook his head. He even managed a small smile. "No, I'm not in trouble. I just really do not need a distraction tomorrow, and you would distract me, love."

She was not sure why, but she did not believe him. It all seemed too suspicious - his stammering replies, anxious looks, and the way he was fidgeting nervously. She lifted her chin, her resolve firm. "I am going."

He blew out a heavy sigh and shook his head, settling his hands gently on her arms and pulling her closer to him. Now she could see distress in his eyes and it unsettled her. "Please, Cellinn, if you love me, do not come tomorrow. I will explain all, after—"

"Explain now!"

"I _**cannot**_! Please, this is very important to me." He took a shaky breath. "Please…"

"If it is important, I should be there!"

"Not this time."

"Are you ordering me as my prince to stay away from the court tomorrow?" She was not prepared for the gasp of disbelief and hurt look he gave her.

"I would never issue such an order to you unless the need was dire."

"Then I will come."

His hands dropped from her arms, and he took a step back. For several moments he held her with his gaze before he answered, "Then you will wound me deeply," he whispered, and spinning on his heel, he walked away.

-o-

Legolas made it back to his rooms, though how he did so, he could not recall. Entering his bedroom, he sank to the floor at the foot of the bed and leaned against it. What else could he do? He would not order her to stay away. That would only intensify the matter, create problems in their relationship and damage the trust between them. But other than pleading with her to stay away….

The door creaked open followed by a soft rustling. He looked up to see his mother regarding him with concern. "Did it not go well?" she asked, coming to sit on the floor beside him.

He sighed and leaned his head against her, relaxing as her fingers began smoothing his hair. "Lord Angalar gave his support wholeheartedly," he said, slumping further against her.

"And this does not make you glad, my son?"

He glanced up, his lips quirking upwards a bit. "Oh, that news makes me very glad, Naneth. But Cellinn came home as we were finishing up our discussion and before he had given me his answer. I thought we managed to conclude it well, making it appear as a matter of the court…."

"It is a matter of the court," she reminded him.

He nodded, but continued. "For some reason, she got it in her head to come tomorrow. For so long she has taken little to no interest in court matters — or my role in them! And while I would welcome it after tomorrow, couldn't she have waited to become supportive in this manner? Oh Naneth, what will I do? I cannot order her not to come, and I have already asked her several times to stay away!" An exasperated chuckle from her caused him to sit up and look at his mother with some annoyance of his own. "What?"

"You did not think that such a request would fuel her curiosity? Make her more determined?"

"What else was I to do?"

"When it comes to Cellinn, anything but that!"

He could not stop the snort of laughter. It was true and one of the reasons he loved her so much. His beloved was bright, curious and downright stubborn! Ai, he loved her! So much his chest ached.

The sound of the door creaking open again caused him to look up into his father's face. "Is everything all right in here?" Thranduil asked, stepping into the room. He glanced at Eirien, then back at Legolas.

Legolas swallowed. "No! Cellinn has it in her head to attend the proceedings tomorrow." And he explained what had happened with the lady and her father earlier.

Thranduil listened, a thoughtful look on his face, but then he grinned. "This is easily solved, my son. Have no fear; I will see the lady is not present when you make your petition."

Legolas exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Ada."

-o-

Cellinn managed to prepare herself for dinner, apprehension wrapping her like a damp blanket, making her shiver. When she had approached her father about her wish to attend court tomorrow, he sternly told her that she should not attend. He did not forbid her from going; as an adult, she could make her own decisions, but he did tell her going would be a very poor choice, considering her beloved had strongly requested she not attend. When she asked him why, Angalar brushed her off saying she should stay home and finish her tapestry.

The knock on the door caused her to jump, but she moved forward, trying not to shake as she opened the door. Legolas stood there, looking as uneasy as she felt. But then he offered her his arm with a slight smile. She took it and let him lead her to the dining hall, where they had a nice dinner, despite the tension between them. He even walked her back to her rooms and kissed her goodnight.

Not once all evening did they speak of the matter lying between them.

**To Be Continued…**


	11. Her Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the flashback, Legolas is 4 1/2 and Cellinn is about 19 mos. old.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Her Reaction** _

It was with much nervousness that Cellinn entered the large hall the next morning. She stood towards the back of the room, rather than near the front as befitted her status. She tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, hoping Legolas would not notice she was there. It was no longer about supporting him, she realized, but about finding out what he was trying to hide from her. The thought that he could do such a thing stung her heart to the core. The fact that everyone entering the hall seemed cheerful, and there was no sense of impending doom puzzled her the most. It seemed it was just another trivial day of court. So why was Legolas trying to keep her away?

She noted Legolas did not enter when the nobles or even the king's family came into the room, and that caused her mind to wildly grasp for explanations. Was he perhaps to be brought into the room bound, as a prisoner to be punished? It was ridiculous, and she knew it, but her imagination frantically sought for possibly answers. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, wishing it would just be over soon.

She opened them when the herald called for any petitions to be brought before the court. _Oh, why am I here?_

-o-

Legolas waited outside the doors to his father's court, nervous and excited all at once. Normally, he would be inside during the opening proceedings, but having a petition, he needed to first be announced. Taking a deep breath, Legolas glanced down at himself one last time, noting that what he could see still remained flawless: Deep green trousers were tucked into dark brown boots. His silvery grey tunic was belted at his waist with an elaborately tooled, brown leather belt. Instead of formal robes, his shoulders were covered with an embroidered, dark-grey mantle, which hung to below his knees, and he could feel the intricate silver circlet binding his unbraided hair from his face. His mother had assured him he looked very princely. He grinned. He was ready for this day — for this petition, required by the king among those belonging to his court.

The ordinary folk of the Greenwood could marry freely without consent of the king, but the king's vassals – the nobility in his court – needed permission. Such was rarely withheld, but at times, forbidding poor matches saved the king much trouble later. Internal strife among his advisors and their families was not something beneficial to Thranduil, and thus, he did his best to prevent it.

The herald exited through the great doors and glanced at him with a raised brow. "Your highness?" Legolas nodded to show he was ready, and the herald turned back to the court and called in a loud voice, "His highness, Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Greenwood."

Legolas strode up the aisle, confident and excited, towards the dais where his father sat on his wooden throne, his mother seated at his side. His nervous jitters had passed, and he was left with just a sense of all being as it should be, at least, until a movement caught his eye. He glanced over to find Cellinn among those in attendance. His stride faltered, and he nearly panicked. But it was too late to change the day of his petition. Pulling himself up straight he met his father's eyes and continued forward.

Upon reaching the dais, Legolas bowed, and then dropped to one knee, his mantle coming to rest around him, draping the floor as it surrounded his form. He bowed his head respectfully, but broke protocol with a brief, beseeching glance up at the throne. He mouthed, "Adar, please?" and motioned with his eyes towards the attendees.

Thranduil's eyes scanned the crowd, widened, but then he smiled encouragingly at his son. Legolas lowered his gaze to where his hands rested on his thigh; he was the perfect picture of a petitioner in the king's court, as he waited quietly for the king to acknowledge him.

Instead, Thranduil spoke to another. "Lady Cellinn, come forward."

Legolas worked hard to keep his eyes down, trying to ignore the tension he now felt in the room. He heard the rustle of fabric, a few muttered whispers, and then he felt her standing not far from him to his left. Moving just his eyes he watched her curtsy, her eyes down, not looking at the king.

Thranduil stood up and stepped down off the dais, so that he was standing before her. Legolas could see his father's boots, and he hoped this would be quick. Speaking in a quiet voice, so as to be heard by only Cellinn and Legolas, Thranduil addressed her. "Child, did the prince not request that you avoid today's proceedings?"

Cellinn whispered back, "He did, my lord."

"And do you not trust him enough to respect his request?"

"I…. I could not help myself. I felt something boded ill for him, or that he was hiding something from me."

Legolas felt his heart twinge in pain at hearing her words. If there was any other way, he would have taken it.

"Child, I give you my word that the prince will make known to you all that happens here, but for now, it would be best for all if you removed yourself from my hall. Trust that Prince Legolas loves you enough to have your best interests in mind."

Legolas glanced up as her eyes flitted down to him; they gazed at each other a moment, then Cellinn looked back at the king.

"Yes, my lord."

And then she was gone. Legolas heard the doors close after her and the whispers that followed as those present mused over what could have been said. Thranduil retook his seat, and Legolas felt the king's regard fall on him.

"Prince Legolas, stand and tell Us of your petition."

Legolas heard amusement in the king's voice. He stood, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He met his father's eyes, grinned and mouthed, "Thank you."

"My lord, according to your law, which states that if any among your court wish to wed, the petition must first be brought before the court, I hereby request the hand of Lady Cellinn, daughter of Lord Angalar."

There was dead silence for a moment in the room, then a chorus of giggles, whispers and chuckles as those seated realized what had taken place. Someone called out, "It's about time!"

"Indeed," Thranduil laughed. "Has the lady's father agreed to this request?"

Legolas grinned. "He has, my lord, and is present to give his support to the petition."

"Lord Angalar," Thranduil's voice boomed in the room, "approach with your lady wife." Legolas grinned as Cellinn's parents came to stand at his right before the dais. Thranduil's expression, full of mirth, turned serious. "This young man requests the hand of your daughter in marriage. Do you give your consent to such a joining?"

"Gladly!" Angalar said, "Provided his parents also agree to such a match, of course."

"Ah, yes. Prince Legolas, have your parents consented to this union?" Legolas looked at the king and blinked. Thranduil leaned forward and whispered, "Yes, they do, my lord."

The crowd laughed, and Legolas flushed, but following protocol repeated the words, much to everyone's amusement.

The king then looked over to his wife, seated by his side. "Come my dear, we must do this correctly." She smiled and stood, walking to Legolas's side and wrapping her arm around his waist. Thranduil looked at those gathered, then at Cellinn's parents. "Gladly do we approve of this union, and as already said, it is long overdue."

But Angalar shook his head. "Nay, my lord, our daughter was not previously ready for such a union, and we would not have agreed had he approached us sooner. Prince Legolas's patience and love for her has assured us he does not rush headlong into something without much thought."

"You did not have to live with him," Thranduil grumbled, just low enough for only the five of them to hear. Legolas frowned at his father, and the king continued with the proceeding amid chuckles from the others. "Prince Legolas, have you asked Lady Cellinn for her consent in this matter?"

"Nay, my lord," Legolas responded. "I wished to have the king's approval before pursuing the matter further." Many members of the court requested permission to wed after they had discussed marriage between themselves, but he had wished to have everything in order before he approached Cellinn. He never doubted — well, not really — that his petition would be approved, but he would still have all the formalities out to the way before he asked the lady herself.

"A wise choice, young one. You have Our approval to pursue this course. Go now and make your request known to the lady." Thranduil looked up at those witnessing the granting of a marriage petition. "And no one present is to speak of the happenings here until or unless a betrothal is announced." Legolas was grateful for this condition the king always granted those who had yet to speak to their beloved. It removed the possibility of someone mentioning anything to the lady before her suitor had a chance to speak himself.

Striding from the hall, Legolas stepped out of the doors that swung wide for him, a grin nearly cracking his face. All he had to do now was implement the rest of his plan and hopefully within a couple of hours, he would be betrothed to his Cellinn!

"Legolas?"

He looked up at the sound of a voice and found Minuialwen waiting for him; but her expression concerned him. "Minuialwen?"

"You look very handsome, brother." She stepped forward and straightened his collar. "I assume by your grin that your petition was granted?" He nodded and would have spoken all about it, but she placed a finger over his lips. "I am happy for you. But now I think you need to explain all this to a certain lady who is just around the corner sitting on a bench." She leaned up to whisper in his ear, "She is crying, Legolas."

All his joy drained from him at those words. He had expected Cellinn to be irritated with him, most likely angry after she was denied seeing the proceedings for herself, but tears? Cellinn was not a woman given to them easily. A lump rose in his throat, and he tried to swallow it down. With a nod to Minuialwen, he stepped around the corner and saw his beloved seated on a bench alongside the wall where petitioners often awaited the herald's call. Her head was bowed, a handkerchief was squeezed tightly in her hand, and she sniffed as her shoulders shuddered.

He was kneeling in front of her before he even realized he had moved. "Beloved…"

-o-

Cellinn looked up at the term of endearment, startled as she had not heard anyone approach, so great was her remorse. And kneeling before her was a magnificent prince, resplendent in royal attire. Her heart fluttered. "My lord?" Rare did she use the term, other than teasing him, but how could she address this prince as anything else?

He sighed and took her hands in his, concern written clearly on his features. "Oh, Linnaew. Forgive me. I did not mean to bring you to tears." He released one hand to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "I thought you would be angry."

She smiled tremulously, "I was, but then I saw how horrid I had been. Oh, my prince, forgive me for causing you pain!" And she retrieved her hands to cover her face as more tears fell. And then arms were surrounding her, as a body lowered itself onto the bench beside her.

"I do not think you have ever referred to me as your prince before, and truly meant it," he said, and there was something in his voice that caused her to look up into his face. There was a look of wonder there, and satisfaction.

"I have never truly seen it before. I always knew you were a prince of the realm, but somehow, you have never before been _**my**_ prince. Now…you are."

The look of wonder on his face changed to an expression of emotion she could not name, and one corner of his mouth lifted into the crooked smile she loved so much. Then, her prince's head bowed and his lips were on hers, his fingers in her hair, and she leaned into him, her heart surging with emotion. Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, however, he pulled back.

"Come," he said, "this is not the place for this." He stood, and taking her hand, lifted her to her feet, tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow. "Walk with me. There is something I would have you see."

"Alright," she agreed, using her free hand to try to fix her mussed hair. He chuckled and stopped to help her, declaring her presentable after a moment. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere where we can talk without the entire kingdom watching," he informed her with a smirk.

She then noticed Ninglorwen watching them with a severe frown. Cellinn blushed, feeling very uncomfortable at being caught in such an embrace by that lady. She followed her prince with no hesitation, her heart fluttering when she remembered the look in his eyes right before he had kissed her.

The fluttery feelings turned to confusion when he led her to the Hall of Portraits. It was not the actual name of the room, but rather, what it was called by most people due to housing portraits of the king's family. A guard stood at attention outside the door, and this caused her to pause a moment, as she had never seen a guard there before. But Legolas just nodded at the guard, opened the door and ushered her in. Her confusion turned to curiosity.

The room was fairly large and held small groupings of furniture in several places. The walls were graced with portraits, ranging from miniatures to life-sized, beginning with a large framed painting of Oropher, which one saw on the opposite wall as soon as they entered through the only door to the room. This first painting began a chronological showcase of Legolas's family as one moved to the right: a large relief of Oropher with his bride, some of the late queen's family, and portraits of the first princes of Greenwood as elflings. The next wall showed more of the young princes, Thranduil and his older brothers, as they grew to adulthood, along with some scattered pictures of their parents. The final painting along that wall was of the feast celebrating the marriage of Thranduil to then Princess Eirien.

But it seemed to be the wall in which the door was located that held Legolas's interest, for he led her to the center of the room and turned her to face it. He stood perpendicular to her, watching her, but she turned to face him.

"Why are we here? Legolas, I…" A finger was placed over her lips to shush her, and she was turned back to face the wall, which began with a portrait of the king holding a tiny baby Arandur, a large grin on Thranduil's face.

"I want to show you something," he told her.

She frowned. She knew every painting in this room. The room held some of her earliest memories of the prince standing beside her. Just being here caused her to remember…

-o-

Their mothers were seated having tea, while she played with a rag doll on the floor, and a sulking prince sat on a settee swinging his feet. When she looked up at him, he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Legolas…" a warning sounded from his mother. "Do you wish to be punished for longer?"

Ducking his head, he shook it. "No, Nana. I'll be good."

"Very well, you have another fifteen minutes and then you may play with Cellinn if you wish."

He made a face. "But she's a girl!"

"How observant of you, my son," the queen said, rolling her eyes at Cellinn's mother, who covered her mouth with a hand, eyes twinkling.

"I big girl," Cellinn said, standing up and toddling over to Legolas. "I pay wi' you." She stood blinking in front of him with wide eyes, her doll held firmly in her arms, and her head tilted to the side.

The prince's mouth twitched. He glanced at his mother, who narrowed her eyes at him, then he looked back at Cellinn. "I'm being punished. I can't play right now."

"Why you pun'shed?" She struggled to pronounce the big word. "Were you bad, 'Galass?" she asked.

His face turned red and he lowered his head. "Never you mind," he said quietly in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a parent, and dared a glance at the women, who were now engaged in conversation and ignoring their children.

"It's aw right," Cellinn said, patting him on the knee. "I bad som'time, too. You pay 'gin soon." Then she sat at his feet with her doll and sang to him while he waited.

"You're like a songbird," he said after a time, looking both amused and irritated. "You don't shut up!"

"I sing pretty! Ada say so!" And she started another song, rocking her doll, but her eyes never left the prince, whose lips twitched and his grey eyes sparkled.

-o-

Despite his annoyance with her, when his punishment time was over, he had taught her to play "I See" using the paintings, which was why she knew every detail. Many times they had been cooped up in this room while their mothers had tea, and many times they had retreated here to play as they grew older.

"What am I to see then?" she asked confused.

"You will know when you see it," he answered with a grin.

She sighed and let her eyes roam the wall. There were random portraits of Arandur as an elfling, pictures of Legolas as a baby and small child, and a few of the whole family where Arandur and Legolas looked very bored. _Formal sittings,_ she thought as her eyes continued to roam the wall, passing over Arandur's coming of age, Arandur in warrior garb, an adolescent Legolas looking mischievous. She sighed and glanced over at him. But he watched her, rather than looking at the wall.

"Keep looking," was all he said.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"You will know," he repeated.

She continued scanning but paused as she came to a painting of just Minuialwen. This one represented her friend's betrothal to Arandur and signified her becoming a part of the family. She smiled, noting not much further over on the wall was the painting depicting them bound and smiling at one another. There were not many more paintings, she knew, as they were approaching the present. There was Legolas's coming of age, one with him dressed in warrior's guard as he entered training, and….

-o-

Legolas watched Cellinn's eyes move over the different portraits. He knew only too well what was on the wall, and only wanted to see her reaction when she found it. He was not disappointed. Her eyes moved from one of himself, and came to land on the newest portrait to grace the wall. Her expression turned from bland tolerance of his request, to confusion, and then… She gasped, eyes widening, mouth opening in shock.

He grinned and moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and leaned forward to rest his cheek against hers as he allowed himself to look at where her eyes were directed. The large portrait was the one he had painted of her sitting on the bench in the garden with a backdrop of her beloved wild roses. It had turned out beautifully. Legolas enjoyed painting, and had dabbled with it since his childhood. His practice over the years had paid off with this, his masterpiece.

Then he realized she had not spoken since seeing the portrait. "Linnaew?"

There was a ragged intake of breath, and then, "You painted it." It was not a question.

Not quite knowing what to say, he instead gently turned her around in his arms so that he could look in her eyes. They were tear-filled, but full of an emotion he could not name. "Marry me?"

He almost laughed as she just bobbed her head, her eyes wide as tears overflowed down her smiling face. Then because he could no longer resist, he pressed his lips to hers and felt his heart soar. One of her hands caressed his face, wandering over to lightly trace the lower half of his earlobe. He shuddered and pulled back. "Does this mean I'm forgiven for not telling you about my petition?"

"Shut up." Her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

Legolas was all too happy to abide by her request as his lips were currently needed for pursuits other than speaking.

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note:** During the flashback, Legolas is 4 1/2 and Cellinn is about 19 mos. old.


	12. The Most Difficult of Subjects

_**A week later…** _

_**Autumn** _

Despite her mother's insistence on extensive preparations for the betrothal ceremony, Cellinn felt the day dragged by. She chafed at such things as smoothing oils over the skin on her feet, when she would not even be removing her slippers this eve. Such things were for her binding, not the betrothal, and even then, she doubted Legolas would be looking much at her feet!

"Cellinn? Do I wish to know where your thoughts have strayed, child?" her mother asked with gentle amusement. "You have turned as pink as your gown!"

Oh why could she not hide her feelings like Legolas did? She could feel the warmth extending from her face to her ears and down her neck to her chest. There were _**some**_ things she just did not wish to contemplate at this time, and the physical joining with her beloved was one of them. It aroused such strange feelings within her: curiosity, excitement, embarrassment…fear. No, she would not ponder such disturbing thoughts now. There would be time for that later — much, much later.

Poor Legolas. They would have to broach this subject eventually, and she feared she could not for some time. But first things first! Tonight she would place her hand in his, and they would exchange gifts to seal their promises. A quick glance at her mother assured her that nothing had been forgotten. Eitheliel carried a bundle wrapped carefully in linen and tied with string. Her gift to Legolas, made by her own hands as custom dictated, entailed a tapestry depicting a certain tree carved with their initials.

She wondered about his gift to her. He had painted her portrait for the Gallery, but he could not present that to her; it must remain where it hung. What else could he have made for her? Even though they had known each other most of their lives, the depth of her beloved became more and more apparent, and she gladly realized there were still many secrets to learn of him. And that only led her back to her earlier thoughts and caused the heat to spread through her again.

"Cellinn!" Eitheliel laughed. "Child, it will not do to arrive in such a state for one's betrothal. For your binding, yes, but not for this."

"Naneth, I cannot help it! This is the first step and then…then…"

"And then you will discover there is nothing to fear, and much to be thankful for." Her mother lightly rubbed her back as they stepped into the main part of their dwelling where her father awaited them.

"Is this princess _**my**_ daughter?"

Cellinn grinned at Angalar's standard reaction to seeing her dressed so formally. Only this time, his words gave her pause. _Princess?_ It was a good thing her father had quick reflexes; he caught her as her knees buckled.

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered as he helped her to a chair where she sank gratefully into the cushion.

"Oh yes you can!" Eitheliel exclaimed. "We have not gone through all this planning for you to back out at this point!"

Glancing up through the curls around her face, Cellinn gave her mother a dry look. "Yes, it would not do to upset _**your**_ plans, now would it, Naneth?"

"Cellinn." There was a warning in her father's voice.

She immediately felt chagrined and ashamed. "I'm sorry, Naneth. I didn't mean it. I'm just…nervous."

Angalar pulled a chair over and sat facing her, taking her hands in his. "My little filly, it is normal to be nervous! But for you, I suspect more so. I think too often you forget just _**who**_ you fell in love with. I could not have chosen a more honorable man to be your husband, but he is also a prince of this realm. You keep forgetting this."

She gave him a lopsided grin and nodded. "When one has been chased by frogs, snakes, and beetles by said _**noble**_ man, one forgets he is also a prince." She sobered. "I came to that realization the day he asked me to marry him. I met my prince that day, and…Adar, it frightens me! Who am I to be his wife? Why me? What if I do something stupid? Embarrass him?"

"Why did he choose you? Because he loves you — _**you**_ _!_ I do not believe any other has ever turned his head."

Cellinn laughed at that. "Then you do not know him like I do, Adar. During his adolescent years, many of the young ladies 'turned his head' as you put it, especially Ninglorwen." She ignored the roll of his eyes and continued. "In fact, I think I was the only one not to catch his eye in such a fashion. I was just his friend." She bit her lip and blinked back a sudden rush of tears. "I so wanted him to see me that way, too, but he never did, not until…not until I pushed him out of my life."

Eitheliel snorted and moved to wrap an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "He had that coming, dear. And much good came of it, though at times I wished to shake you!" She smiled. "I think what your father means is that it is time for you to accept that _**you**_ are Legolas's princess. And you are worthy of such a title. You will do well by each other. It is why we so readily agreed to this binding."

Her father nodded. "Can you see any of the other ladies being married to him?"

Something rose up within her then, causing her to flush but not with embarrassment. "No! He is mine."

He grinned at her. "As you are his. Nothing will change that, Cellinn, unless you allow it. And you may not realize it, but you have been trained for this over the years. I cannot see you acting in a foolish manner or causing him any embarrassment. You have all the grace and manners of one who was born a princess."

A slow suspicion began to grow in Cellinn's mind. "What do you mean, I was trained for this?"

Her mother's arm tightened around her. "He means we — your father and I as well as the king and queen — saw this coming from the time you were children. We discussed it long ago, and made sure you were properly groomed for the title. We decided if you children chose otherwise, we would stay silent and let you go your own way. And for awhile, I will not deny we feared that would be the case. But sometimes parents just know these things." A graceful finger tipped her chin up and she looked into laughing, but loving blue eyes so like her own. "When you have a daughter of your own, you will understand. This was not forced on you, only foreseen. So you need have no fear, my daughter."

The explanation released the dam of emotion she had been holding back and she began to weep, in relief. She could do this. She really did have the necessary skills to be Legolas's wife. She just needed to employ them! "Thank you, Adar, Naneth. I feel so much better now."

"Then why are you crying?" She looked up through her tears to see her father looking genuinely confused. "I will never understand females."

This brought giggles from both Cellinn and her mother. "Oh, Ada, I am just happy." She leaned forward into strong arms that welcomed her.

"Oh my little filly. What will I do without you? Hmmm?"

"I'm not going anywhere just yet. It will be some time before we hold the actual binding."

Both her parents laughed, and the sound of it caused Cellinn to feel alarmed.

"If you think that young prince of yours has any plans of waiting, you are the one who doesn't know him very well!" Angalar remarked through his laughter.

"If I am not ready, he will not push me."

His grin totally disarmed her. "Oh, dear daughter, I fear Legolas's patience nears its end. If your mother would not make me sleep in the cellar, I would wager you will be wed before the first fall of snow!"

"Oh," Eitheliel gasped, "but that is not enough time! We have a dress to make and arrangements, and she will wish for at least the flowers of spring, if not of late summer!"

Cellinn just smiled, still held within the circle of her father's arms, as her parents began debating her future nuptials. Legolas would give her all the time she needed, she felt sure of it. Now, if only she could find a way to explain to him just _**why**_ she wished to wait.

-o-

The betrothal ceremony would be a small and quiet affair. The formal announcement on the morrow would be followed by an elaborate feast and include the entire court. For now, Legolas felt content with just being here, in his mother's garden, standing before the wall of climbing wild roses as he waited for his betrothed.

Unlike their Noldor cousins, the Sindar did not exchange betrothal rings or need to wait an entire year before they wed, for which Legolas felt very grateful. With so many of their people lost at Dagorlad only a few centuries ago, the joining of houses through marriage and the begetting of children had become highly encouraged. Most of the formality concerning binding had been discarded, not that the Silvan folk put much stock in formality anyway. Legolas and Cellinn could marry simply by becoming one in body and spirit, but he wished to follow the customs of his ancestors, his grandfather's traditions, something not even his own father had done.

And so here he waited, with only his family gathered near him for the joining of their house with that of his father's chief advisor. He shifted impatiently from foot to foot, his formal robes heavy against his skin. Surely they could begin soon? Casting a glance at his mother, he asked, "Naneth, does it usually take so long? Sundown has come and gone."

His mother smiled and stepped closer to him, drawing him into a warm, comforting embrace. "Not until the rising of the first star, Legolas. You know we await Gil-Estel."

"But it's taking so long!" he complained.

His father and brother laughed. "It only seems so, Legolas," Thranduil assured him, moving to stand on his other side. His father's strong arms wrapped about both his mother and himself, and Legolas nestled between his parents, feeling loved and secure and suddenly, very young.

"Adar, what if I do not make her happy?"

Again, his father chuckled. "Legolas, there will be times when life is not pleasant. There will be times when you and Cellinn will argue and fight; it has always been thus. But you will, as always, forgive each other, and I can assure you, once wed, making up is much more fun!"

The queen reached behind them and smacked Thranduil on the backside, much to Legolas's amusement. Arandur snorted, but Minuialwen blushed, placing a hand on her slightly swollen belly, caressing the life within. Legolas grinned as he realized he now knew the secret of his brother's surprise. They had argued...and made up. But apparently neither Arandur nor Minuialwen had bothered to tell the other they wished for a child, and so, the conception had taken them both by surprise.

The sound of the door to the garden opening drew his thoughts back to the more important matters at hand. He gulped as his parents stepped back to their places just behind him. Looking anxiously down the garden path, he held his breath, then gasped as Cellinn appeared in a vision of soft pink and ivory silk.

It was time.

-o-

Legolas sat back on the bench and tilted his head up to look at the stars. His parents strolled hand in hand further down the garden path. Their voices drifted back to him, fading as they drew further away. He shook his head. Even now, his father had strange ideas about chaperonage, yet he and Cellinn were given plenty of space.

A warm weight settled back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around his betrothed. The ceremony had been perfect, the feast exciting and the congratulations hearty. It had been a long hard road to arrive here, happy and content. He had no misconceptions that life would be easy or without discord, but he would not have it any other way.

"Legolas?"

He tilted his head down so his cheek rested against her hair. "Hmmm?"

"I cannot believe we are betrothed," she whispered.

"Regret it already?" he asked as he nuzzled her ear.

Cellinn laughed. "No. No regrets, except maybe how long it took us to realize our feelings for one another." She tipped her chin up to meet his kiss, then settled back snugly in his arms.

Perfect. She fit perfectly. He grinned to himself as he thought of the future, shifting as he became a bit uncomfortable. "I was thinking…"

"Hmmm?" She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Would the Winter Solstice be too soon?" He thought of his room smelling of evergreen and spices, a fire roaring in the hearth, his wife naked in his bed…. _His wife!_

"Too soon for what?" She stiffened against him, causing his pleasant dream to fade.

"To wed, of course." He frowned as she pulled from his embrace.

"So soon?" she whispered, scooting to the other side of the bench.

Legolas felt his heart sink. After all the time he had waited, she still was not ready to wed? But no, he had seen the exuberance in her eyes when he asked her to marry him. He glanced to her and noted she was trembling. What was it about their wedding that could upset her so? Nothing would change between them, except Cellinn would move into his rooms…into his bed. He gulped.

"Cellinn? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just, it will take time to make all the arrangements, make my dress, and there are the flowers…"

She grasped for reasons to put off their wedding? But instead of anger, he felt concern. There was more to this than what she babbled on about, and they needed to discuss it. "Your mother could have your dress made in less than a month. _**My**_ mother could have all the arrangements made in the same amount of time. Solstice is almost three _**months**_ away."

She slipped from the bench and began wandering the garden, not looking at him or saying anything. It was so unlike her, Legolas thought. Cellinn always spoke her mind with him.

_Unless she was afraid._

He stood and went to her, coming up behind her to still her movements with his arms around her waist. She shuddered beneath his touch, tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold. A sob escaped her and something wet fell onto his hand.

Slowly he turned her around. Tears streaked her cheeks, and he lifted one hand to wipe them away. "You're afraid." It was not a question, but she nodded, leaning against him and laying her head against his shoulder. Legolas sighed, running his hands over her hair in an attempt to calm her. "Oh, love. What is it you fear? I thought you were happy about becoming my wife?"

"I am."

He frowned, not understanding. "Then what are you afraid of?" The truth hit him with a force that left his heart pounding. "Sharing my bed?"

She hiccupped, turned her face away, and pulled from his arms, retreating from him. For a moment, he could only watch her go in disbelief, his feet frozen in place. But they had done enough running from each other. It was time to discuss even the most difficult of subjects, although for Legolas, their binding was a source of joy. He did not understand her fear of it, but he would try, if she would talk to him.

-o-

Cellinn had made it almost to the door of the garden when he caught up to her and his arms slid around her waist once more, drawing her back against him.

"Don't run away, he whispered against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I-I…I c-can't…."

"Shhh…" He turned her around in his arms and when she met his eyes she was taken back by the tenderness in his gaze. He reached up to stroke her cheek, wiping away the trails of tears. "It's alright, Cellinn. We can talk about this. You don't have to be embarrassed."

She swallowed back the irritation that rose within her breast at such a comment. It would be too easy to fall into arguing with him. They had come too far for such childishness. Taking a deep breath, she continued to hold his gaze. "I cannot help that I feel embarrassment over such things, Legolas. And it's not just that. It frightens me, just talking about it!"

A frown creased his brow, and she could see him trying so very hard to understand. He shook his head. "I don't understand why you are afraid. Can you explain?"

Cellinn dropped her eyes. She did not quite understand it herself, so explaining it would be difficult. "I – I don't know. It's not a single thing that I can name. I suppose I fear losing myself, surrendering everything until I'm no longer Cellinn, just your wife." She felt as surprised at her words as he looked when she glanced up at him.

He blinked. "I don't want you to lose yourself. I want _**you**_ , Cellinn."

Her heart leapt at those words and some of her fear left her. She pressed closer to him, raising her hands to rest on his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's silly to be afraid."

But he shook his head, one corner of his lips drawing up into a crooked smile. "It's not silly to be a little afraid of the unknown, love. There are times I fear I'll make a poor husband…" He hushed her when she tried to protest. "No, listen. I've never been a husband before. I'm bound to make mistakes, to hurt you without meaning to, and that scares me. But I won't run from it. I promise you, I'll learn from my mistakes and be the best husband I can be for you…" His grin widened, showing his dimple, and his eyes sparkled. "Because I love you, Linnaew."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as it always did when he called her by the childhood pet name he had given her. He sobered and caressed her with his fingers splayed over her waist. "That isn't all that frightens you, though. Is it?"

She shook her head and bit her lip. "No." Her arms slipped down to rest against his chest and fighting tears once more, she lowered her eyes.

A firm but gentle hand raised her chin so she had to meet his eyes. "I swear to you I will be gentle and do all in my power not to hurt you. I want to express my love for you in every way possible — to marvel at your every curve, feel our spirits become one…."

Cellinn's heart began to race and a strange heat burned within her when he spoke with such passion. For the moment, her fears melted away with the seriousness of his vow, and she managed a wobbly smile. It was not easy for her, but she would be brave. "In that case, Winter Solstice will be fine."

His eyes took on a heated glow as he lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss that took her breath away, and gave her hope that there was truly nothing to fear.

**To Be Continued…**


	13. Anticipation and Apprehension

_**Two months later…** _

Minuialwen hummed and swayed to the tune. It truly was a lovely song, so full of promise and love. She closed her eyes and ran one hand over her blossoming belly, smiling when she felt the life flutter within her. Two arms snaked around her, and she jumped, her eyes popping open in surprise. "Arandur!" she complained, laughing as he pulled her back against his chest. She had been so absorbed in communing with their child that she had not heard the door open and close with his arrival.

"I couldn't help myself." His voice was a low growl in her ear. "I come home to find you standing here, in naught but your nightclothes, looking so beautiful…" his voice trailed away even as his hands reached to caress her belly. She felt him reach for her through their bond and envelop both her and the unborn babe.

She sighed, closed her eyes again and fell into the loving comfort, going limp in his arms, letting him support and give her strength. When she opened her eyes some time later, she found herself snuggled safe in their bed, wrapped in his arms. A happy smile tugged her lips upwards as she glanced up to see him sound asleep.

Wriggling a bit, she was able to lightly kiss him on the lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he grinned sheepishly back at her. "Fell asleep," he mumbled.

"So did I." She snuggled back against him. "I did not realize how draining it would be to nourish a child, but I'm so happy, Arandur!"

His arms tightened against her. "As am I." He yawned. "Though I do wish it didn't tire us so much. I wanted to speak to Legolas before he leaves." He yawned again. "Save him from Adar's meddling."

Laughter bubbled up in her breast. "Your father is a dear, but sometimes…"

"Mmmm…" he agreed, stirring. He sat up, stretching. "I really _**do**_ need to speak to him, as much as I would rather lie in bed with you all day. He's in for much teasing, and I don't want his head filled with a bunch of nonsense."

Minuialwen smiled warmly up at him. "You're a good brother," she told him. He grinned back at her and bent to kiss her soundly.

-o-

Legolas sat on his bed, his eyes following Thranduil back and forth as his father paced the room. He felt both amused and horrified at his father's ramblings, until, unable to take any more, he asked, "Must you tell me all this now?" When Thranduil spun around to look at him, Legolas lifted a brow. "I'm not to wed for another month!"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed at him. "Yes. You will be gone until the week before the wedding, and you should have time to think about what I tell you." He turned to resume his pacing.

Legolas grinned, then forced a neutral expression. He cleared his throat. "But Naneth gave me a book. I know this already."

Thranduil spun around again, his expression one of shock. "A book?"

Legolas fought to keep a straight face and nodded. "With illustrations." He lifted a knowing brow.

Thranduil gaped at him. "Illustrations!" Red seeped up from his collar into his face. "What _**kind**_ of illustrations?"

The laughter spilled forth as Legolas fell back on the bed, pointing at his father's discomfiture and holding his stomach. "I'm jesting," he managed to get out through his mirth, though he was rewarded for his amusement with a glare. He sat up, still grinning. "Arandur talked to me already, and I know how it all works. You explained that long ago." He paused, trying to put what he needed to ask into words. "What I'd like to know is…how to put her at ease? She's afraid."

Thranduil's expression softened, and he sighed and came to sit beside him on the bed. "Just go slow, Legolas. Talk to her. Reassure her. Touch all of her, not just the parts you like best." He winked.

Legolas flushed. "Adar!" Sometimes he would really rather speak to his mother. She never made him feel so self conscious about his desires and feelings.

Thranduil grinned. "Don't think I don't know where your eyes have strayed, son. But better to hold the lady, stroke her arms, her sides…"

Yes, he would much rather speak to his mother. She had much better tact when it came to this topic. "I get it! Please don't be more specific." He knew his face burned red, and he shifted away to hide his reaction.

But Thranduil just laughed. "It will be like that until you wed; everyone will tease you, offer advice." His voice turned serious. "Ignore them. Most will just be trying to make you nervous. Just love her, Legolas."

And that required no effort whatsoever. "I do." He rose, grabbing a few more things to stick in his pack for his last training mission in the wilds until spring. His father's voice halted him.

"One last thing, son, and listen well, for I don't mean to embarrass you."

Legolas turned in surprise at the change in his father's tone of voice, curiosity cooling his cheeks. "What?"

Thranduil cleared his throat, looking away himself for a moment. "Afterwards…" He paused – a very long pause, and Legolas thought he could see red creeping up his father's neck.

"Afterwards? After what?" He grinned at the color that now infused Thranduil's cheeks.

"After you've made her your wife in truth, do not — listen well! — _do_ _ **not**_ fall asleep."

Legolas blinked. "Huh?"

Thranduil chuckled and met his confused gaze. "You will want to, more than anything. Sleep will feel like the most natural thing, dragging you down into its embrace…" Legolas jumped when Thranduil punched the bed beside him for emphasis. "Fight it! Do not fall asleep first. Hold her, then tend to her…" Thranduil gave him a significant look, and Legolas nodded, understanding his meaning. "Let her fall asleep in your arms, _**then**_ you can follow."

"But why does it matter who falls asleep first?"

Thranduil just lifted a brow. "It matters. Trust me, it _**matters**_. Show her that night that you love her, even above your own needs, and she'll never forget it."

Confused but not about to question someone happily married for many centuries, Legolas nodded. He hoped he would remember that bit of advice.

_**One week before Winter Solstice** _

Cellinn smiled wistfully and ran a finger over the pages of parchment set on a small table. The pages had been Legolas's betrothal gift — a song composed just for her that would be played by Legolas during the binding ceremony while Minuialwen sang the words. _One week!_ One short week and she would wed her prince! Her heart fluttered — both with anticipation and apprehension.

She knew she should not be afraid, but knowing and convincing herself were two different things. She had not so much as seen a male fully unclad before, let alone bared herself to male eyes! Oh, why did it all confuse and frighten her so much? She was being silly. There was nothing to fear.

She worried at a rough spot on a fingernail with her teeth, until her mother smacked her hand from her mouth and smoothed the edge with a piece of sandstone.

"None of that," Eitheliel fussed. "You want your hands to look pretty and be smooth." She winked conspiratorially.

Cellinn flushed. "Naneth!" she complained at her mother's teasing. The teasing only made her feelings of unease worse!

Eitheliel sighed. "Please tell me you are not still afraid. You should be excited — hardly _**wait**_ to join your husband in his bed."

The horror of her mother's statement only made her flush more, and she turned away with another pleading, "Naneth!" She would _**not**_ discuss this right now. She felt nervous enough.

Her mother snorted. "Any other lady would be happy to have that handsome prince taking them to bed."

" _NANETH_!" Her face burned, and she turned away. Cellinn was quite aware that many others were more than eager to fall into her prince's arms and bed. The whispered comments she had chanced to overhear were enough to make her want to rip some of their hair out! But she did not feel that way. She found the thought of Legolas disrobing and then removing her own clothing to be rather… Her face heated further and her thoughts spun out of control. And then after that, they…they would… She gulped, feeling herself begin to tremble, not in anticipation but fear of the unknown. _Then what?_

"All right, all right," Eitheliel was saying. "I'll let you deal with it your own way. I just hope that boy has some patience in him."

_So do I,_ Cellinn thought. She bit her lip while her mother finished smoothing her nails, rubbed some nice smelling cream into her hands and feet, and then began to brush her hair until it shone. The ritual had been done every night for a month in preparation for the wedding. It was enough to annoy someone who did not fret much over physical appearances, such as herself. It seemed to her it would be enough to do it the day of the wedding, not every night for a _**month**_!

The smoothing, brushing and creaming rituals were bad enough, but the 'talks' her mother had with her, explaining what she could expect during the ceremony — and worse, after the ceremony — nearly had her screaming in frustration and embarrassment. Of the latter, Eitheliel never told her in enough detail to banish her fears. _Why is it parents are loath to discuss such issues plainly anyway?_ Though, if she were honest with herself, she really did not think she could sit and listen to her _**mother**_ explain the functioning of a male's body. She ended up only half hearing the information Eitheliel gave because she was too embarrassed to truly listen. Perhaps it was not just parents who were mortified at such information.

Cellinn hoped Legolas knew what to do. She had determined after that night of their betrothal that she would speak to him in depth about it, no matter how embarrassing, but somehow, in the flurry of preparations, wedding details, and his being away on a training detail, she had not had a chance to broach the subject with him!

She could not be expected to do anything with the bits and pieces of info her mother gave her that skirted what she felt she needed to know. Most of her questions were answered with a lifted brow and a "You'll find out soon enough." Cellinn sighed again. Oh yes, Legolas had _**better**_ have _**some**_ clue as to what to do — or she would strangle him!

He should have returned yesterday, giving her some time to speak to him and find out how much he could explain; but there was no sign of the trainees or their instructors. It rankled to know he had not returned when he had said he would, though she knew he had no control over such things. But with all the confusion, 'talks' that circled the issue, hair pulling, fittings, and so on, she needed him; and so she fumed that he was not there to hold and reassure her and remind her with his kisses that all would be well.

-o-

_Darkness. Pain. The ground shifted, opening up to swallow him alive! He cried out, but no sound came from his lips. Then the darkness consumed him…_

Slowly awareness returned to him. Legolas did not know where he was or what had happened. He dimly remembered the vivid nightmare. Then the pain shot through his body, making coherent thought nearly impossible. He could not open his eyes, though he tried. Oh, how he struggled to lift the heavy lids! He felt dizzy, disoriented, and his head, chest and leg felt as if on fire.

_Cellinn._

He held onto the image of her face, floating before him, smiling that special smile of hers just for him. He longed for her, wished to touch her beautiful face as she laughed. But then the vision faded as she turned and ran from him.

_No! Stay!_

Something jostled him, and he cried out. His voice sounded muffled to his ears. He had the sensation of floating, a slight rocking back and forth. Had he died? Cellinn would be very angry with him if he died and missed their wedding. Another bump sent bolts of pain searing through him. But if he were dead, he would no longer hurt so much… _would he?_

Though his eyes never opened, it was as if the darkness descended on him again, slowly devouring his scattered thoughts. There were voices, some sounding harried, but he no longer cared, could no longer think.

He welcomed the dark, and drifted back into blissful unconsciousness.

-o-

Another two days passed, and still Legolas did not return. With only three days to go until their wedding, Cellinn felt anxious, angry, concerned… Her emotions were a jumble that left her feeling exhausted. She hardly slept, could not eat, and her mother's fussing only irritated her further, so that she forced herself to block out the sound of Eitheliel's voice. The stone rubbing across her nail grated on her nerves as her mother smoothed another imagined rough spot away.

"Cellinn?"

At the soft call, she looked up to see Minuialwen standing in the doorway of her room. Her friend's appearance caused her heart to lurch with hope. Perhaps Legolas had returned! She smiled up at her friend, but then noticed the tightness around Minuialwen's eyes and mouth. Her smile faded. "What's wrong?"

The princess inhaled a deep breath, looking away. Her refusal to look at Cellinn caused her heart to slam hard against her ribs. "The trainees have returned, but they have injured."

Though many trained in the arts of war, there was little need for it any longer. Sauron had been defeated many years before her birth when the ring was cut from his hand. They never heard of orcs in the wood; those foul beasts had been driven into hiding long ago. A border patrol was maintained, but Cellinn could not remember the last time someone was injured in a skirmish. In fact, the only ones routinely injured were the trainees in the odd accident…

Her breath caught in her throat for a long moment before she squeezed out, "Where's Legolas?"

"He's in the healing ward," Minuialwen murmured, her head lowered, her face hidden by her long silvery-gold hair. "The master healer was not very…encouraging."

Cellinn heard no more. Mindless of her attire or her mother's calls to wait, she sped on bare feet through the halls clad only in her nightgown. Darting round a corner, she hit something solid and nearly fell. Strong hands caught her, helping her keep her feet. She glanced up and gasped. Thranduil held her, and there were tears in his eyes. She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge what she feared more than anything. "No," she whispered.

Thranduil pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "He's alive," his voice hitched, "but barely."

**To Be Continued…**


	14. Pish On Propriety!

Cellinn sat in a chair, her head propped against Arandur's shoulder with his arm around her in a comforting gesture. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was Legolas's shoulder and arm, so alike in build were he and his brother. But whenever she tried to close her eyes and rest, as her mother had suggested, a constant tapping disturbed her. So she settled into a pattern of watching the source of the tapping — Thranduil's boots clicking on the stone floor as he paced back and forth while they waited for more news — and glancing at the door, beyond which her beloved fought for his life.

Minuialwen sat between her husband and Queen Eirien, whose eyes never left the door. Cellinn's parents stood quietly in a corner: Eitheliel held herself stiffly beside Angalar, twisting a handkerchief around her hands. _What a sight we are!_ Cellinn thought, breaking her pattern to glance around at them all. Everyone looked so serious, so glum, as if Legolas had already died. That stirred her temper enough that she sought some distraction.

"What happened?" she blurted, having received no information on how Legolas had been injured.

Her words brought Thranduil's feet to a halt and his eyes met hers. "The troop was returning to the halls, having completed their training a couple days late due to the storms we had two weeks ago."

Cellinn nodded, remembering the unusually warm weather that had blown in with severe thunderstorms, rather than the usual snow storms. "I hadn't considered that might delay them. We should not have planned our wedding so close to the end of the exercise."

But Thranduil gave her a wry smile. "They had orders to return no later than today. They would have arrived by noon, if…"

Oh how she wished they had arrived earlier in the day with Legolas whole and laughing as he teased her. But as that had not been the case, she wanted to know why. "If?" she prodded.

Thranduil sighed. "They were only a couple of hours away, further up in the mountains. Norbor said there was no warning. The ground simply gave way beneath them. The rains must have eroded an area over some underground caverns. Most of the troop was able to scramble to safety with only minor injuries." His voice faded for a minute, and his appearance was so stricken, Cellinn had never seen him look so distressed before.

"One was not so fortunate, however. When the deep fissure opened beneath him, Rível would have probably been killed if not for Legolas. He dived and grabbed his friend, managing to haul him over the edge to safety, but…" Thranduil looked away, swallowing hard. Cellinn's heart pounded. It was just like her Legolas to risk himself for someone else, but oh, how she wished he had not been hurt doing it!

"The edge gave way beneath him, and Legolas fell into the fissure instead. He was battered by the debris in the fall. His left knee is dislocated, several ribs are broken — Norbor thought Legolas might have a punctured lung… The healers do not know yet." Thranduil paused, but Cellinn wished he would just tell her the worst. The injuries mentioned so far would not be life threatening, though they were severe. She braced herself.

Thranduil's voice was hoarse and his face pale as he continued. "He hit the side of his head hard enough that Istuion is unsure… He doesn't know if…" He released a shuddering breath. "Norbor thinks he landed on his head. I'm hoping it was a glancing blow from a rock on his descent." His eyes glassed over, and he blinked rapidly, preventing the moisture from falling. "It's a miracle he did not break his back or neck, falling that far!"

Cellinn's breath stilled. It seemed to her a miracle that Legolas had not been killed!

Eirien stood and went to her husband, wrapping her arms around him. "He's strong," she assured the king. "And he has big plans. I can't imagine he'd allow himself to die before marrying Cellinn." The queen turned to give Cellinn a watery smile, which Cellinn returned, thankful for the attempt to lighten the mood.

They stood there looking at each other for several minutes in the silence. Then the door opened, and the master healer, Istuion, stepped out. Immediately, everyone was on their feet asking questions at the same time, anxious for news.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Is he awake yet?"

"How is he?"

"Will he live?"

Cellinn did not add her voice to the cacophony, but just waited to hear the answers the healer would have. Her heart lurched when he smiled. He would not smile if he had bad news, would he?

"I believe he will make a full recovery – " Istuion's voice was drowned out by exclamations of joy and sighs of relief. Arandur dropped back into his chair, his head sinking to his hands. Minuialwen sat down beside him and rubbed his back. The Queen leaned into Thranduil as he closed his eyes, his unshed tears finally spilling over and leaving wet trails on his cheeks. Her parents looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to react.

"Let him finish!" Her voice had a ring of authority that startled everyone in the room, including herself.

"My lady," Istuion acknowledged her with a bow, directing the rest of his report to her as if she were the highest ranking person present. "I cannot be for certain how serious the head injury is until he awakens, but his skull is not fractured and poses no immediate threat to his health that I can see. He most likely is concussed; in fact, I'd be surprised if he was not." Those words relieved most of the remaining tension in the room. The healer continued, "We've moved his knee back into place and splinted it. It isn't as severe as I feared. There are some torn tissues, but no broken bones or need to perform surgery. It will take some time to get him back on his feet and walking without a limp, but I have no doubt with his tenacity, he'll be up long before we'd like him to be."

Thranduil chuckled at hearing that and nodded. Cellinn knew they would all have their hands full in getting Legolas to rest and allow the time necessary for his body to heal. It would be a real challenge to keep him off his feet, but she welcomed it! So long as her beloved lived, she felt she could handle anything. "And his ribs?" she asked.

"His ribs were not broken badly enough to pierce his lung. We've wrapped his chest to keep them from shifting, so that they can heal. All considered…he's doing well." He had a cheerful expression on his face as he spoke, until a sudden frown caused Cellinn concern. He gave her an apologetic look. "I do not think he will be well enough to have the wedding on the Solstice, my lady."

The ridiculousness of the statement — _of course they would not be able to wed with Legolas in this condition!_ — on top of her lack of rest, all her worry and the sudden relief caused her to feel dizzy. Her knees collapsed and she began to sink as the face of the healer blurred before her. Someone gasped and several people began to speak in alarm, although she could not understand what was said. She felt someone catch her as the noises faded to nothingness and her vision went completely black.

She had fainted.

-o-

Cellinn woke in a strange room. She blinked the sleepiness from her eyes and glanced around, discovering her mother sitting in a chair beside the bed. "Naneth?"

Eitheliel smiled, though Cellinn noted a tightness to her mother's mouth and eyes. In a rush, it all came back: Legolas not returning on time, discovering he had been badly injured, and hearing he would be recover with time and her wedding would not take place as planned.

"How do you feel, dear?" Eitheliel's voice disturbed her thoughts.

Cellinn glanced back to her and grimaced. "Did I faint?"

Some of the tension left Eitheliel's face. "Yes, you did, but understandably so. You've hardly eaten or slept for days and now this on top of everything… You needed a good rest."

"Legolas?" Cellinn's heart ached. She longed to be with him, to help ease his pain however she could. "I want to see him!" She looked again at the strange room. "Where am I?"

"One of the smaller rooms in the healing ward. We all agreed you'd wish to be close to your prince while he recovers."

Cellinn threw off the covers and glanced down. She still wore her nightgown.

Her mother rose and moved to a chest that sat against a wall. "We brought some of your things." Eitheliel pushed back the lid and began rummaging through it, pulling out undergarments, stockings and her slippers; then she opened a small wardrobe, revealing a few of Cellinn's dresses hanging within.

Bounding out of bed, Cellinn moved to a washstand and quickly moved through her morning ablutions. Dressing as fast as she could manage, she kept throwing glances at the door. When she attempted to brush the tangles from her long hair, her hands shook so much that her mother took the brush and finished the task.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

But Cellinn shook her head. "Later. I want to see him first."

"You can eat while I find a healer and…." Eitheliel's exasperated voice followed Cellinn as she left the room.

She found herself in the hall where she had waited long torturous hours for word of Legolas's condition. Recognizing the door, she did not stop to knock. She pushed inside, and then stumbled to a surprised halt. A squeak left her lips as her eyes took in the scene before her.

Legolas lay unconscious on a large bed, naked except where bandages swathed his head, ribs and the splint on his left knee. Her cheeks flamed, even as her eyes traced over his handsome face, his broad chest, narrow waist and then settled _**there**_ _._

"My lady! You should not be here!"

Only then did Cellinn realize she was not alone in the room with Legolas. One of the healer's assistants approached with a basin of steaming water and a cloth. Apparently, Cellinn had intruded on Legolas's bath! She looked at the pretty, young apprentice, then back at her prince and indignation rose in her chest, all embarrassment leaving her. If this girl could be present — alone with him — washing his body, then so could Cellinn. No, _**only**_ she had that right! To see him like this, to tend his needs. Before the other girl could protest, she reached for the cloth and basin and moved to the bedside. "I will tend him. You may leave."

"But my lady! You cannot be here; it is not proper!"

Cellinn threw her a disgusted glance. "Proper? We're supposed to be wed in two days. Nothing here I wouldn't see in time. Now go. Inform the master healer that I will be caring for the prince, and I need instructions." With a horrified and slightly disgruntled expression, the apprentice left, the door closing just short of a slam.

Alone, Cellinn looked down at Legolas, this time her eyes drinking in the sight of him. Some part of her warned she should wait until they were wed to view him like this. That he should be awake to see her reaction. But a larger part screamed that it was her place and her right. He belonged to her, every inch of him. She grinned. So much for never having seen a male unclothed. And what a sight that was!

She sat on the bed beside him and wet the cloth. With determination, trying to avoid staring at parts that made her flush, she began to wash the traces of dirt and sweat that remained from his fall and the trip back to the halls. Tenderly, she drew the wet cloth across his cheeks, over his nose, bending to place a soft kiss on his lips. She chastised him for his carelessness in teasing tones as she rinsed the cloth and lightly drew it over the places his chest was not obscured by the tight bindings that secured his broken ribs. Careful not to place any undue pressure on him, she moved to his abdomen, secretly admiring the tight muscled plane, dipping the cloth into his navel.

So far, she had had no problems, but then Cellinn glanced at the next part of him, biting her lip as she stared. She had cared for enough of Legolas's creatures over the years to know how to do much, but this? She stared at the place that most fascinated and somewhat frightened her. How was she to wash _**that**_ _?_ Should she? She glanced at his face. What if he woke while she touched him? What if someone walked in?

She realized her breathing had increased to a frantic pace, and she chided herself for her silly girlishness. She was soon to be a wife! _Legolas's_ wife. She could wash him… _ **everywhere**_! Couldn't she?

Cellinn took a couple deep breaths, calming herself. She did want to care for him, help him recover, but perhaps some things… She reached out, not quite brave enough to touch him everywhere just yet, and washed around the part that impeded her, blushing furiously whenever her gaze landed _**there**_. And then she moved on to his long legs and feet, not looking back.

By the stars, she loved him! Every inch, every muscle, even his feet were handsome! She grinned to herself and washed between his toes, noting they twitched, and remembering just how ticklish he had always been.

Then the door opened.

-o-

Thranduil paused in the doorway as he caught sight of Cellinn bathing his son. The wet cloth slipped from her fingers to the floor when she looked up with a gasp, her expression that of shock and embarrassment. Glancing at Legolas, Thranduil found his son still unconscious. Still, it disturbed him see his son lying naked with Cellinn in the room, unconscious or not! At a nudge from his wife, Thranduil stepped into the room, meeting Cellinn's startled gaze. To his surprise, her horror vanished swiftly, replaced by a tilt of her chin and eyes that dared him to say anything. Determination and boldness, something he rarely saw from Cellinn with anyone but Legolas. _Interesting._

"I want to care for him."

Oddly, her words were not a request. His brows twitched upwards. "Impossible," he retorted, only to receive a smack on his backside from his wife. He jumped and glared at her.

"Of course you do," Eirien said, coming around him and stilling any further comments with a single look. "And there is no reason you should not."

Thranduil frowned at her. There were very good reasons why Cellinn should not be caring for Legolas in this fashion. Entertaining him when he woke by reading or talking would be acceptable, but taking care basic physical needs while Legolas lay oblivious? He could already hear the disparaging remarks made against Cellinn by certain members of his court. There were those who could cause her no end of trouble; many of whom had been in his father's court and held strictly to old customs.

"My love?" He forced himself to make some semblance of a protest, though he feared she would not listen. "It is not proper. They are not wed." He gave voice to the complaints he would soon be barraged with from both lords and ladies. Probably even his butler.

"Pish on propriety!"

He sighed. So it would be like that then. But gazing into her smiling face, he read her unspoken plea to trust her. She knew what people would say and do in response to this situation. He gestured for her to continue, curious how she could let this happen without censure. It was one thing to marry without the traditions — that caused stir enough! Quite another for an unwed maid to bathe and attend the physical needs of an equally unwed prince. Perfectly fine for healers and apprentices, but not for ladies. Hypocritical, he knew, but true nonetheless, and one reason he had turned his nose up at propriety by marrying his wife without ceremony or a betrothal.

"They were to marry soon enough. I fail to see why she cannot care for him if someone is here with her. It's not as if she would spend the night with him."

But Cellinn's sudden flush revealed she had planned to do just that, and _**that**_ could not happen. He ran a hand along his jaw as he contemplated his wife's solution. "I think the court could find little to gossip about if she were chaperoned, but certain things," he gestured to Legolas's nude body, "should be left for the healers to do."

" _No_!" Cellinn's outburst surprised him. He glanced at her and found her shaking in anger. "I will not sit by and let another woman touch him when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself, and with more care! He is _**my**_ betrothed. _**I**_ will care for him!"

"Of course you will, dear," Eirien stated so matter-of-factly, Thranduil turned to her in exasperation. But before he could comment, she continued. "And I will help you."

He could not really argue with that, now, could he? He chuckled inwardly. No, he could not. And neither could certain nosy members of his court. "Very well." Still he could not help but hope the full situation did not become well known to certain people. Cellinn did not need enemies in the court.

-o-

Cellinn promptly found herself very thankful for the Queen's help and presence. Legolas's mother took over with confidence and easily rebuffed the head healer and his complaints. Rolling up her sleeves, she demanded he let them care for Legolas's needs, pointing out that Istuion's apprentice could be put to better use and learn more at his side than caring for an unconscious patient. Masterfully, she obtained all they needed to know to care for Legolas's injuries. By the time Istuion left, little remained for the healer to do but check on the prince's progress.

For the rest of the day, Cellinn stayed in Legolas's room, even taking her meals there. Eirien left her alone after a time, saying as long as Cellinn just sat with him, no one would have reason to speak badly of her, though she knew it would not matter. The fact that she was helping to care for Legolas's physical needs, even with a chaperone, would cause whispers and censoring looks, but she did not care. The situation irritated her; she needed to call for someone to help her, unless she was just cooling his face with a wet cloth or holding his hand! She would never look down her nose at another lady in the same situation. Why, she and Legolas could have married months, even years ago!

_Except you have been too afraid._

The thought startled her, despite the truth in it. And as she considered the past few years, Cellinn began to understand how she had not been ready to wed, not mature enough. Legolas had realized that, however, and not pushed her. Even now, she was not completely comfortable with all the aspects of marriage, although she loved him with her whole being.

Glancing at Legolas's peaceful face, relaxed in unconsciousness, she knew she wanted to give him everything, no matter her hesitance. Not all would be pleasant, she knew. Parts would be awkward, painful, even humiliating – and not just the act of joining. Giving herself completely meant Legolas would see her as she truly was, deep inside herself. Her only reassurance was that he would be doing the same. She did not realize she had smiled until a faint voice spoke in the stillness.

"You're beautiful…when...you smile."

The whispered words startled her. She looked up and found silvery-grey eyes focused on her. Her breath caught in her throat. He was awake!

**To Be Continued…**


	15. Firm, Steady, Determined and Kind

"Legolas!" Cellinn fell to her knees beside the bed, taking his hand in her own.

He turned his head to look at her, wincing with the movement. "Hurts."

She could see the pain in his eyes and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Shall I summon Istuion to give you something for it?" He nodded ever so slightly, and she stood and nearly ran to the door. "Istuion! Istuion!" She raised her voice, " _ISTUION_!"

The healer appeared just as she finished yelling his name, frowning at her in dismay. "My lady, you cannot yell in such a manner. You will disturb—"

Cellinn cut him off by grabbing him by the arm and yanking him into the room. "He's awake and in pain! Help him!"

Istuion darted to the bed where Legolas lay blinking at them. "Prince Legolas!" Impatiently, she watched Istuion examine Legolas's eyes one at a time, bringing a lamp closer and withdrawing it. "How great is your pain?" The healer asked. "Squeeze my hand to show me." He then flinched as Legolas's knuckles turned white around his fingers.

Cellinn wrung her hands, biting her lip as she waited for something to be done. Her beloved hurt, and oh, how she hated feeling useless! But Istuion took quick action, asking Legolas where his pain was worst, then leaving to fetch his medicinals.

As soon as Istuion left, Cellinn strode back to the bedside and pulled the chair up close beside it. She longed to sit on the bed next to Legolas, but feared her weight would jar his injuries and cause him further hurt. Settling on the chair, she gently picked up his hand again and stroked his fingers. "You'll feel better soon." She smiled encouragingly at him, tracing down his thumb with her forefinger.

He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry? For what?" She continued stroking his hand, waiting for him to speak.

He licked his lips and attempted to speak again, but the effort seemed difficult for him. She then remembered the large lump on his head, and imagined it ached; so she shushed him with her fingers against his lips. "Shhh... 'Tis all right. You have nothing to be sorry for, love."His eyes slit open, and he seemed to plead with her. Such sorrow in those silver depths! "Legolas, truly, everything will be all right!"

"Wedding."

Tears filled her eyes at his hoarse whisper. "Oh, Lass." She stood and bent over to place a kiss on his cheek, but he turned his head and caught her lips, gasping at the movement. "Be still!" she fussed, distraught, and kissed him again. "The wedding will wait until you are well. In the meantime, I will take care of you."

It took a moment for him to react, but his eyes widened. "You?" He rasped, glancing slowly down at himself. His gaze lingered on his bare chest covered by the bindings on his ribs, down his belly to where his bare skin disappeared under the covers at his waist. Cellinn felt her face heating as his eyes came back to hers, holding a look of wonder. "All of me?" And a mischievous smile twitched at his lips.

She sank back into the chair and covered her burning face with her hands, trying not to laugh. "Yes, all of you! As I've been doing all day. I-I…I even gave you a bath!"

"Shame on you," came his amused whisper. And when she peeked at him through her fingers, she saw one corner of his mouth was still pulled up into that crooked smile she loved, though his eyes were closed again.

"I did get an eyeful when I walked in on the apprentice getting things ready for it. But I kicked her out and did it myself." From the screen of her fingers she could see his shoulders shake slightly, but then he gasped and paled. "Legolas!" Her hands dropped and she reached for him as she realized his laughter had jarred his broken ribs.

It took him a moment to catch his breath and when his pain-filled eyes opened, he pleaded with her. "No laughing." And his eyes slid shut again.

"Sorry," she soothed, lifting his hand in hers and pressing her lips to his fingers. "I'll tell you about it later, when you're better." He gave her a pained smile; his eyes remained shut.

When Istuion returned, he brought a strong smelling thick, dark tea infused with tinctures and various herbs to help with the pain, inflammation and to speed healing of the broken bones and damaged tissues. But he and Cellinn had a difficult time getting it into Legolas. They had to raise him, propping pillows behind him, in order for him to be able to drink the tea, and that caused all the color to drain from Legolas's face. He groaned pitifully, causing her heart to ache. For a moment, she thought he might get sick, but he grit his teeth and breathed shallowly until some color slowly returned to his face. But after all their efforts to settle and soothe him, he refused to drink the tea, saying it tasted as foul as horse droppings.

Cellinn had rarely heard Legolas use such language. She gasped and rebuked him for making a fuss when the healer was only trying to help.

"Drink it yourself and let me be then," he told her. Not once did he open his eyes, so he could not see the tears that formed and slipped down her cheeks. But she was glad of that! She did not want him to see how his words hurt. He was not himself, and she would remind herself of that frequently if necessary. She needed to be firm, steady, determined and kind if she were to help him — even when he did not want it.

So she dumped the now cooled tea over his head and walked out. Istuion's laughter followed her.

-o-

"Please Naneth," Legolas gasped, "tell her…I didn't mean…." he endured her mothering as she washed the sticky tea from his face and chest. His hair proved more difficult and would require the healers to change the bedding when she finished. She stayed quiet while she worked, which gave him way too much time to try to think, and thinking made his head hurt worse. He loved his mother, but he longed for Cellinn and her tender regard — at least the regard she had shown before drenching him in that foul-smelling slop! Legolas had not spoken to her in such a way in years! _If ever._ And he had no idea how to make it right when he ached so badly he felt his head would burst.

The door creaked open, and he glanced up to see Cellinn entering the room. She did not look one bit chagrined about soaking him in his tea! In fact, she carried a new mug of the foul brew. Walking to the bedside opposite his mother, she sat in a chair placed there, and then she looked up at him. Legolas found himself drowning in blue eyes full of determination.

"I brought you some more tea for the pain, since you spilled the last cup."

He blinked, not sure he had heard her correctly. He had not spilled the tea — she had dumped it on him! He opened his mouth to tell her so, but she spoke first.

"I'm sure you'll be more careful with this one, since your mother has done such a fine job of washing you clean of the last. It would be a pity for you to wear another cup. While Istuion was amused that you spilled the first cup, he has admonished that herbs are not to be wasted." She smiled sweetly at him.

From the corner of his eyes, he thought his mother stifled a laugh. He scowled at her then turned back to Cellin. He wanted to shake her. " _ **You**_ spilled it," he whispered, giving her an accusing glare.

"Did I?" She seemed to contemplate that a minute before responding, "No, I'm sure it was your fault." Then she leaned forward and kissed his lips. All his ire melted away in her touch. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling back and giving him a helpless look. How could he not forgive her? Truly, could he blame her? No; he had been an arse.

"I'll drink it," he told her contritely, but mentally he added, _if I can keep it down!_ It tasted as foul as he remembered, but he forced himself to drink the whole cup. His stomach roiled, but somehow, he managed not to be ill. He was rewarded by Cellinn taking over his care for the remainder of the day. When he was not dozing she helped him sip water, wiped his brow, spoke softly to him and sent Arandur to fetch various items from his room to give him something to look at in the bare healing room.

His mother stayed nearby and shooed Cellinn out when it came time to deal with more personal matters, for which he was thankful. Legolas felt in no condition to deal with embarrassment on top of his injuries. Not that having his mother help kept him from blushing any less, though she often enlisted the help of Arandur, Istuion and once even Thranduil, for which he was grateful. He had a good mother.

He slept on and off during the remainder of the day. He had been awake for about an hour, Cellinn sitting beside him stroking his fingers, when his mother entered and explained he needed to sleep for the night. He sensed Cellinn's reluctance as she released his fingers and stood.

"I'll go to my room now," she whispered. Legolas had rarely seen her look so forlorn.

"Stay," he whispered back. "Stay with me." But she shook her head as tears filled her eyes. He did not understand, and he could not reach her to wipe the wet trails away.

"I can't."

Legolas felt he had been dumped off his mount as she fled the room.

With her went all the comfort he craved, all his peace. When his mother explained the reasoning of her departure, he understood, but he did not agree. His heart resisted defiantly. He wanted Cellinn! _**Needed**_ her!

To his mother's and Istuion's vexation, Legolas slept little that night. He pined for his love, her soothing touch and tender whispers. Even the short periods he managed to sleep, he dreamed he chased her futilely through a dark mist, her form just out of sight, but her voice tempting him onward until it faded away.

He woke crying out her name, drenched in sweat and shaking, his pain so intense he could not keep anything in his stomach. His mother's attempts to calm him proved vain, and finally, as the sky began to lighten to grey, she sent for Cellinn. Only when her fingers traced his brow did he finally succumb to an exhausted but peaceful slumber.

-o-

That first night proved the worst by far, though the following nights were trying as well. The first two days Cellinn stayed with Legolas, and a good portion of the nights also. But to keep tongues from wagging, she retired for the darkest hours. Those nights were wracked with vivid dreams that had him waking soaked in sweat and crying out for her. His mother would shush and attempt to comfort him, but he could not return to sleep until Cellinn was called. She sat beside him and stroked his brow or held his hand while whispering of her love and only then could he slip back to sleep. But when he woke in the morn, she was gone again, and waking without her there left him empty and aching.

It was too much. They should be married now! _Today,_ he realized. _We should be getting married today!_ He could hear the preparations for the Solstice festivities — celebrations that would _**not**_ include their wedding. He sighed.

He wanted Cellinn to stay with him, but she could not for the appearance of propriety. As if he _**could**_ do anything improper! Not that the thought did not cross his mind, but currently, any plans of foregoing a wedding and simply making her his wife were impossible to act on!

And he reminded himself, he _**wanted**_ a ceremony.

As the next couple days wore on, however, he just wanted to have Cellinn as his wife. To have her stay with him through the long hours of night, banishing the dark dreams that haunted his rest. To have her snuggled beside him, holding him as he wrapped his arms around her. It would be enough, he realized one night, just to have her there, whether they could complete the union or not. To have her stay with him, even if only to be in each other's company. He had placed too much emphasis in his own thoughts on their joining, rather than just having the company of the one he loved. And with that insight, Legolas began to form a plan.

A week had passed since his accident. Each day Legolas grew a bit stronger, the pain receded a bit more and he could sit up in his bed and feed himself. His head no longer ached, his ribs were just sore, but his knee still throbbed, and he did his best not to jar the limb.

When he questioned Istuion about when he would be back on his feet, the healer just shook his head. "Not any time soon, my prince. We'll start some exercises in bed, but no weight bearing for a time."

It was not the answer Legolas wanted to hear. He wanted to be able to stand, if just for a few minutes. He thought and thought of a way around it, and eventually managed — through much pleading — to get some cooperation from Istuion, though Legolas also had to accept he would be doing little more than sitting for some time.

His mother was now suggesting the coming of Spring for the wedding, but Legolas was determined not to wait that long. But he would need someone to help him. He grinned and sent a note to Arandur and one to his father asking them to come at a time Cellinn would be out of the room.

-o-

"Legolas?"

He grinned as his father entered the room. "Adar."

Thranduil sat down beside the bed and observed him with a contemplative look. "You're planning something."

Legolas blinked. "What makes you think that?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed at him. "I know you, son. I know when you're up to something and right now," he crossed his arms and sat back in the chair, "you are up to something."

"So I am," he admitted.

"Well?"

Legolas shook his head. "Not yet."

A few moments later, Arandur knocked on the door and came in. His brother stopped just after entering, giving him a hard look, then glanced to their father. "He is up to something."

Thranduil chuckled. "That's what I said!"

"Well?" Arandur crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Spill it!"

Legolas told them his plans. Arandur chuckled, shaking his head, but Thranduil just smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"Alright. I'll see to it."

"Thank you, Adar."

Thranduil squeezed his shoulder and left. Arandur talked with him a few minutes longer, then also departed, having agreed to do his part.

Legolas smiled for the rest of the day.

-o-

Cellinn peeked around the door to determine if Legolas was awake. He glanced at her, his lips drawing up in his familiar crooked smile as he waved her inside. Gladly, she moved to sit beside him, taking his hand in her own and bringing it to her lips.

"Istuion said your father visited. Did you have a nice visit?" He nodded. "What did you talk about?"

"You." He gave her a look that quite unsettled her.

"You're up to something!" she accused, though she smiled despite the strange fluttering in her chest his expression elicited.

He grinned. "Why does everyone keep saying that? First Adar, then Arandur, Naneth and Istuion, and now you!"

"You have _**that**_ look."

He laughed, and she noted he only mildly pressed his fingers to his ribs. He was healing well, and for that, she could abide his teasing. Though she really wished to know what he was up to.

"So what are you planning?"

His answer caused her breath to still and her heart to pound.

"Our wedding."

**To Be Continued...**


	16. Gloriously Happy

Cellinn watched dumbfounded as people flurried about with the preparations. Everything had already been arranged for the Solstice, so with the change of plans, they had only needed a couple of days to make the final arrangements. Her mind was still spinning. She was getting married today! Even though Legolas could hardly stand.

Since the accident, Istuion had worked with Legolas using bed exercises to keep the muscles limber and prevent them from wasting, but the healer would allow no weight to be borne on the injured leg. If not for his broken ribs, Legolas could have attended the ceremony on crutches. However, with much begging, he had managed to get Istuion's permission to be carried on a litter to the hall where the ceremony would take place. He would have to sit in a chair for most of it, but during their vows, he would be allowed to stand, provided he only put weight on his good leg and had someone stand with him to hold onto for balance and support. Arandur would be that person.

And now, Cellinn stood looking in the mirror at her reflection as her mother placed the finishing touches on her wedding gown. She felt the nervousness build. This was insane! Not at all the wedding she had anticipated! But nor would it be the wedding night she had feared, she reminded herself.

Despite the fact they were exchanging vows, the consummation of their marriage would not take place any time soon. Istuion had made it quite clear to each of them that Legolas could do further harm to his knee, possibly lose all use of his leg and be permanently lame, if he did something as foolish as completing their bond before the knee had sufficiently healed. Cellinn's lips twitched as she remembered the sulky face Legolas had made at that declaration.

And her heart filled with love as she remembered his words and the love in his eyes as he said, "It matters not if we can consummate the marriage immediately or three moons from now. I will not be kept from my wife any longer. It is her company I wish to have — her love and her presence. I will wait no matter how long it takes, if only I can have her by my side always."

She knew his patience would wear thin, but she did not care. His love for her, his regard gave her such peace. They would manage it. Exchanging vows would be enough to still any wagging tongues, and allow them to be together.

Cellinn smiled at her mother in the mirror.

"Now that is the look of a young lady about to be wed to the love of her life!"

"I'm ready now," Cellinn confirmed.

A knock sounded at the door, and Angalar entered the room. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at her. "I cannot believe my little filly is all grown up." His voice was rough with emotion.

"I grew up many years ago, Ada. But I won't go far." She moved into his waiting arms and rested her head against his chest. "I'll always be your little filly, even when I have children of my own at my heels."

As a family, the three of them walked towards the throne room, to her destiny, her love and her prince.

She would be wed today, and as she walked, her nervousness fled.

-o-

Legolas's stomach churned in knots. While he had looked forward to this day for years, this was not really how he had wished to celebrate it. When deciding to go ahead and marry Cellinn so she could be with him, he had not thought of how humiliating it would feel to be carried to one's own wedding while lying on a litter. He must have really hit his head hard in that fall.

He felt better once he had been settled in his seat, and he gave his mother a thankful glance. It had been her idea not to allow anyone into the room until he had been settled. She had even arranged for him to be carried in through a special back entrance so the crowds would not observe him in his incapacitated state. He shifted and adjusted his formal robe a bit, wishing he could stand, and knowing he could not.

The doors were opened and the members of the court as well as many people of the Greenwood filed inside, smiling and looking joyous as they should for such an occasion. They were all seated at tables, as the wedding feast would follow the exchange of vows in the largest room in the Kings' halls, rather than outdoors as it would have had circumstances been different. Legolas withheld a sigh at the thought of being wed in the open air. There was no help for it now, but it did help to have everyone seated, not just himself.

The tables, now near bursting with people, would be pushed back after the feast to allow for the dancing — another thing Legolas had not considered when making his plans. He would not even be able to dance with Cellinn on his wedding day! He bit back another sigh.

But all his doubts and regrets fled away when his lady entered the room on her father's arm. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto hers. She was so beautiful! Had he ever told her that? He could not remember.

A squeeze to his shoulder caused him to glance beside him at Arandur. His brother bent over and whispered under his breath, "You look like you're attending a funeral, not your wedding!"

Legolas looked back at Cellinn and smiled. Her eyes sparkled, and she beamed back at him. His heart flipped over. Why, she did not even look nervous! No, she looked gloriously happy. His smile turned to a grin as she was led to the chair beside him and seated so she could look into his eyes.

Thranduil stood before them, speaking words of welcome to those assembled, but Legolas did not hear any of it. His eyes were for Cellinn alone, and she held his gaze with a hopeful expression. It was not until someone put his flute into his hands that he realized the time had come for him to play Cellinn's song. She was trying not to laugh at him for his inattention, he could tell. He smiled sheepishly, then brought the flute to his lips. He held her gaze the entire time he played, while Minuialwen sang from somewhere behind him.

_Love of my life,_

_Friend of my childhood_

_My heart calls to thine_

_. . ._

_Your beauty enchants me_

_Your love sets me free_

_Your heart answers mine_

_. . ._

_Through fire and all dangers_

_Would I come to you_

_Your virtues I humbly extol_

_. . ._

_In meadows green_

_Our hearts meet_

_For only with you am I whole_

_. . ._

_Love of my life_

_Friend of my heart_

_Your love completes my soul **_

  


The words spoke his heart, and one day he would sing them to her himself. His fingers flew over the holes in the wood, hitting each note with perfection, trilling and climbing to the end.

Tears filled Cellinn's eyes and slipped down her cheeks as the last note faded. He dropped the flute to his lap, and reached up to wipe the wet trails from her face.

And then with Arandur's help, taking care to apply no weight to his injured leg, he stood beside her and recited his vows to her, receiving hers in return — words he would hold in his heart forever.

"I, Cellinn Angalariel, vow to become your wife, before Eru and these witnesses. In love I do bind myself to thee, Legolas Thrandulion, until the World's breaking."

And then Arandur was directing him to sit down again, though Legolas wanted nothing more than to take Cellinn in his arms and kiss her right in front of everyone! Their hands were bound at the wrist symbolically, to remain tied for the duration of the feast. Then Thranduil spoke the final blessing and the people cheered.

A long table was hefted by several servants and set before them, so that Legolas did not have to be moved. The king and his family sat on Legolas's left, while Cellinn's sat to her right. With the high table now ready, Thranduil lifted a glass in toast to the newly wed couple. Cheers and laughter filled the room as servants entered with platters of steaming dishes.

It was not until the food was placed on the table that Legolas realized he had eaten nothing all day. His stomach growled, and the plate of venison before him caused his mouth to water. He reached for it, just as Cellinn reached for something else, both using the hands that were bound. They froze, glanced at each other then both glared at their joined hands, eliciting laughter from the head table and from a few who had observed their blunder among the lower tables.

Legolas looked up at his father in consternation. "Adar, what is the point of this? It seems quite…limiting."

The married couples at the table exchanged knowing glances. Thranduil explained. "It is to remind you, son that you no longer see to yourself alone, but to your wife, and she to you. Even when you desire different things, you must consider the other. And perhaps, working together, you can achieve both, though not at the same time, nor do you always get exactly what you wanted." Thranduil winked at his wife, then looked again at Legolas and Cellinn. "You may only eat with your bound hands. Keep the other in your lap."

"Oh." Legolas glanced again at their bound hands, put his left hand in his lap, and then looked up at his wife. _His wife!_ "What were you reaching for love?" From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother and father exchange an approving look.

"The fruit compote. But…"

Legolas took her fingers in his hand and lifted them to the sparkling crystal dish. "You first. I can wait. How much do you want?"

She laughed. "I'll do it," she said, taking the spoon from his hand.

By the time he had managed to get Cellinn's plate served, the venison he had wanted so badly had disappeared. He noted both his father and Arandur had taken a large amount and frowned. Was this some sort of lesson? Probably. He sighed and told Cellinn he would like the roast fowl, though he looked longingly at the empty venison tray.

"Here," she tugged his hand over to her plate and scooped up a chunk of venison, bringing it to his mouth with her fingers. Her smile was innocent, but the light in her eyes caused heat to ignite in his belly. He took it from her, nibbling softly on her finger.

Oh why had he not waited until he was well to get married? Despite his good intentions, this would be torture!

-o-

Cellinn fed Legolas from her plate, and then he reached to help her eat. He scooped up some of the fruit compote with his fingers, and before she could duck away, he touched the sticky juice to the tip of her nose. "Hey!" She laughed, looking cross-eyed down at her nose. "Get that off!" He leaned forward as if to lick it off and she pulled back. "Don't you dare!" He grinned and reached for a napkin, wiping the stickiness off.

They fed each other until they were full, stopping to talk with their families and the occasional well wisher that stopped by the head table. Cellinn thanked a lady for a small token she had presented, then turned her head as another person approached the table.

"Rível!" Legolas called, reaching for the other's arm in a warrior's clasp. "How do you fare?"

Rível looked discomfited. "It is I who should be asking that of you, my lord. If not for you…" He glanced down, his cheeks reddening. "I owe you my life. Thank you." He bowed deeply, and when he straightened, he turned and took something from a young boy. "My brother, Faerwain," he explained as he faced them again with a smile.

Fairwain stepped forward; the wide eyes he fixed on Legolas were full of awe. "Thank you for saving Rível," he said. "I wouldn't have anyone to play with if you hadn't!"

Covering her mouth with her unbound hand, Cellinn stifled the giggle that welled up within her. She saw Legolas's lips twitch as well. "It was my honor to save one of my own. Gladly would I do it again."

Cellinn drew in a breath. While she hoped he would never be put in such a situation again, she felt proud of him. So noble, her prince.

Rível then held out a sheathed knife. The hilt was made of a white carved antler. Legolas took it with his free hand, then tugged her bound hand over so he could hold draw the blade from the leather. She saw it was engraved with protective runes. Legolas ran a finger over the metal, then glanced up, inclining his head. "Thank you."

Soon, most of the tables were pushed back and the musicians prepared to play. The head table stayed in place for Legolas's sake, and Cellinn sat beside him as the dancing began. "You should go dance," he commented from beside her.

She turned and frowned at him. Dance while he sat here? Alone? And that look! She gazed at him, seeing the pain in his eyes.

"I won't dance while you sit here alone."

He smiled, though she could tell it was forced. There was no sign of his dimple. "I can watch you at least."

"No." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "I have no wish to dance if it's not in your arms, and I shall not. Not until you can whisk me around the floor yourself." She scooted her chair closer to him so she could lay her head on his shoulder. Their bound hands settled on his right thigh, and Legolas meshed his fingers with hers.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

They sat for the first few dances, comfortably settled together, watching the swirl of color. Cellinn laughed as Minuialwen's ever increasing middle kept her from dancing as closely to her husband as the princess would like, judging by the frown she gave her belly. Arandur grinned at her and reached out to caress her midsection. Their eyes locked, and the two gazed deeply into each other's eyes. Cellinn sighed. She could almost see Legolas and her in the same situation in the future.

Off to the side, something drew Cellinn's attention, and she turned her head to see what it was. Ninglorwen stood there on the fringes, glaring at her. The ire radiating from that lady was almost palpable. The lady's eyes flickered to Legolas, and Cellinn could not help herself. She lifted her head and kissed him. At first, Legolas was surprised, but he returned her kiss, drawing it out until Cellinn sighed. When she pulled back, she glanced back at Ninglorwen and smiled smugly. Then she laid her head back on Legolas's shoulder and resumed watching the dancing.

A little while later, she noticed that Legolas had begun to shift in his seat every few minutes. His left hand, the one not bound to hers, rubbed almost constantly at his knee. Lifting her head, she looked at him a moment while he continued to watch the dancing. There was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that had not been there earlier; and he held himself much more stiffly than before. Cellinn sighed. He was in pain. He needed to get back to bed where he could rest and continue to heal.

Catching Queen Eirien's eye, Cellinn motioned her over and whispered in her ear, explaining what she had noticed. That Legolas seemed unaware of their discussion said much about his condition. He sat seemingly focused on the dancing, but Cellinn knew instead that he fought to show no sign of his pain and how uncomfortable he was.

Eirien took one good look at her son and motioned to two servants set on either side of the room. As unobtrusively as possible they pulled two curtains closed, cutting off the head table from the revelry on the other side. Cellinn thought the set up was a nice touch. Legolas had too much pride to be carried from his own wedding feast with all eyes upon him. Besides, it was tradition for the couple to slip away unheeded.

He blinked as the curtain closed, and looked up at them frowning. "What did you do that for?"

Cellinn shook her head. "You should have told me how much you were hurting. It's time we left and got you back to bed."

"But…"

"The only butt shall be yours in bed! Do you understand?"

His lips twitched and then he laughed. "Alright. I _am_ tired. I hurt, and I'm more than ready to sleep with my wife."

Cellinn felt her cheeks heat at those words, but she just leaned forward and kissed him. "I'm tired myself."

The king slipped around the side of the curtain, smiling and coming to stand behind them. "That went well. Few noticed the curtain. Most are too deep in their cups or too busy dancing." He stooped and took their hands in his. "I'm very proud of you two. You learn fast. Remember this lesson," he encouraged them as he untied their bonds.

Legolas covered his mouth and yawned. Cellinn rubbed his shoulder and looked behind them for the servants who would carry Legolas back to the healing rooms. They came forward carrying the litter. Together with the king's help, they were able to get Legolas comfortable and then lifted it, making their way out a back exit.

To Cellinn's surprise, the servants carried Legolas to his rooms, rather than back to the healing ward. She looked up inquiringly at the king and queen who had accompanied them.

Eirien smiled at her and explained. "Istuion thinks Legolas has healed enough to return to his own rooms. He should be here now, preparing the bed and making sure everything you need is close at hand during the night." She looped her arm through Cellinn's, holding the two of them back as the king and the servants maneuvered the litter through the door.

"A maid also has moved your things to his rooms. I feel I must remind you, as no doubt Istuion is reminding my son, that you must not consummate this marriage until he has healed sufficiently. I know you know that, but until you share a bed with the one you love, you may not understand how difficult such an ultimatum is."

Cellinn blushed fiercely at the queen's words, but she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. And before she knew it, she was being ushered into the room, and the king and queen were saying goodnight, taking the servants with them. The door closed behind her, leaving her alone in Legolas's sitting room.

She blinked. _Now what?_ She glanced down at her formal gown and wondered just how she was supposed to get ready for bed without her mother's help. She could not unfasten her gown by herself! And how could she share a bed with Legolas when he was injured? She had anticipated being allowed to stay in the healing ward! Perhaps sleeping on a cot. But instead she would be sharing Legolas's rooms and his bed as his wife! She would be expected to see to his personal needs, all of them! And to help him change and changing herself in his rooms…and yet, they would not truly be bound.

Oh this would be awkward! She had known what she was getting into. Had _**wanted**_ this! And yet… She sighed. Why did things always seem harder when you actually had to do them than when you just dreamed of doing them?

Squaring back her shoulders, she marched to the bedchamber and froze. Istuion was helping Legolas dress for bed. Thankfully, the healer blocked her view of Legolas's body, and she turned away and walked back to the sitting room. Well, at least she would have a reprieve from helping him change tonight. She frowned. She did not feel the least relieved about that. She felt angry! How dare they take that away from her? It was her wedding night!

She marched back into the bedchamber, over to the bed and took the nightshirt from Istuion's hands. She managed to smile sweetly. "Thank you, but I can handle this. You can go."

Istuion blinked at her and looked as if he would protest for a moment. Cellinn raised a brow and glanced at the door. The healer took the hint, pointed towards two small vials of tinctures and departed without a backwards glance.

Only then did she look down at her husband. _Her husband!_ He was laughing at her. His eyes sparkled despite the dark circles beneath them. Thankfully, the blanket was pulled up to his waist, covering his nakedness from her eyes and sparing her at least that mortification.

"I've never seen you act as a princess before." He grinned. "I like it!"

She felt the blood leave her face. "I did?" she asked weakly. "Oh, I shouldn't have…"

"Yes, you should! You _**are**_ a princess now. I was just surprised to see it. I thought it would take you longer to get comfortable issuing commands. To anyone but me that is." He winked at her.

She gave him a sardonic look, then held up his shirt. "Sleeping in this?"

He glanced down at his chest then looked back up at her. "Not unless you make me."

Her breath stilled, but she accepted the challenge and tossed the shirt over her head, causing him to laugh. "Do you know where my things are?" she asked.

He pointed to a large wardrobe that matched his across the room. "There, I assume. It wasn't in here before."

She moved to it and opened the door, finding her dresses hung neatly inside. Below them were some drawers. Opening one, she found the white silk nightgown she had sewn just for her wedding night. Pulling it out along with some undergarments, she closed the wardrobe and stood facing it a moment, wondering what she was to do now. And where were her other effects? Like her brush and comb? She reached up to touch the intricate hairstyle and sighed.

"Come here."

The sound of his voice in the stillness caused her to jump, and she spun around to find Legolas looking at her with a look she had never seen on him before. It was the same look she had seen her father give her mother at bedtime. She gulped, but obeyed. He patted the bed on the right side, and she sat, taking care to move the bed as little as possible.

"Closer," he urged, holding up her brush.

_Her brush!_ "Where did you find that?"

His brows lifted and his lips twitched. "Your mother delivered it earlier today with instructions on how to take down your hair and get you out of your gown."

Cellinn gasped. She did not move any closer, suddenly feeling very shy.

Legolas took pity on her. "Once I unfasten your dress, you can take your nightgown into the bathing room," he pointed to a door she had not noticed before, "and change. There's a vanity and mirror in there, as well as the privy and bath behind the privacy screens. Then come back and I'll take down your hair for you."

Relief poured over her, and she gave him a wobbly grin. "Thank you," she whispered. He patted the bed closer to him and she scooted back so he could undo her gown. "I'll take down my hair, too," she told him, feeling more comfortable with that than his fumbling with the pins. "You can brush it out for me and braid it."

He grinned at her again. "Alright." The gown loosened in the back, and she felt a finger run down her back. She shivered and retreated to the dressing room without looking back.

It did not take her long to change and let down her hair. She ran her fingers through it to loosen the braids, staring at the door leading back to her husband's bed. What had happened to her lack of nervousness from earlier? She had no reason to fear, Cellinn reminded herself. But she did fear. She feared he would not be able to control himself, or she would hurt him somehow. She shook off the emotion. She was being silly.

Somehow climbing onto the huge bed in her nightgown and letting her husband brush her hair was not nearly as daunting as she had feared. In fact, she sighed, enjoying the feel of his hands and the brush in her hair. When he laid the brush aside, she got up and poured the tinctures into a small cup of water for him to drink. Then she put the cup aside on a small table and blew out the lanterns. After climbing under the covers, she lay staring up at the dark as close to the edge of the bed as she could manage without falling off.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep. As should you."

"Over there?" She could hear amused frustration in his voice. She grinned to herself and rolled to her side, turning her back to him.

"Where else would I sleep?" she asked innocently.

"Cellinn?"

"Hmm?"

"Come here."

She did not budge.

"Now."

Oh, he had to use that princely tone with her! She rolled over and gasped as a strong arm pulled her to his side. "There," he said, tucking her beside him. "Now you can sleep."

Sure she could. Lying against his bare skin, her arm draped over his chest, knowing he lay naked against her nightclothes beneath the covers? Sleep? She nearly snorted at the thought.

She lay still for exactly two minutes before taking a deep breath to protest. But she paused, holding very still. In that short time her new husband had fallen sound asleep. And it really did feel quite nice to be held against him like this, in the dark, in his bed. She snuggled closer. Minutes later she also walked in dreams.

**To Be Continued…**

** Many thanks to Ignoblebard for helping me edit Legolas's song for Cellinn! He gave it just the right tweaks to make it work.


	17. Something Significant

Cellinn breathed deeply, not wishing to rouse from her rest just yet. She was much too comfortable. A hand caressed her hair and face. Her cheek lay on something warm that rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she could hear a steady thump thump thump…

"Good morning."

The sound of his voice rumbled in her ear. She smiled. It felt so wonderful to wake in his bed, in his arms, like this. "It is a good morning," she agreed, snuggling closer against him and wrapping her arm around his waist.

Legolas chuckled, his arm tightening around her shoulders. "This is perfect, is it not?"

She closed her eyes, enjoying every minute. "It is."

"I could lie here like this with you forever, except…um…"

"Hmmm?"

"I eh…um…"

Cellinn frowned. What _**was**_ he trying to say? "What?"

"Linn…" he sighed, and she heard something like defeat in it. "I — I need your assistance, love."

She blinked. _Wha–? Oh_! She pushed up so she could see his face.

He gave her a sheepish grin. "If you can just bring me the chamber pot, I can manage."

She blinked again, both horrified and yet amused. She chose to laugh, kissing him lightly on the lips before she rose. "I know this shall be awkward at first…"

"It's awkward no matter how long one needs help for certain things." He folded his arms, looking so sulky that she laughed again. He looked like a pouting elfling sitting like that. A very handsome, disheveled, bare-chested…

She let her eyes wander over him a moment, following his bare abdomen to where the skin disappeared below the covers. With effort, she dragged her eyes away and reached for the pot. "I suppose it would be." She stood there fidgeting, uncertain what to do now. She hoped she did not have to stand here while he…he…

He winked at her. "If you want to change while I attend to this, truly, I can manage."

Despite his attempt at lightheartedness, she could see his cheeks turning pink. She grabbed some clothing and fled into the dressing room where she attended to her morning ablutions. When she returned, she dealt with the pot, and helped him dress in a large nightshirt, averting her eyes and blushing when the blanket slipped down, giving her a peek at certain parts of him.

He chuckled. "Nothing you haven't seen before!" he teased. She smacked him lightly on the arm and headed for the door to get their breakfast. The rest of the morning she spent snuggled beside him on the bed while they took turns reading from a book. It _**was**_ perfect.

In the afternoon, Istuion came to check on Legolas's knee. He clucked and prodded, frowned and muttered to himself by turns. Then the healer looked up with a smile. "I do think we can begin some more intense exercises today if you are not in pain."

Cellinn smiled when Legolas's eyes brightened with excitement and he nodded with enthusiasm. But as it turned out, the exercises were not much more than Istuion had already been doing; only instead of the healer moving the leg, Legolas was required to make the movements while Istuion helped support the limb. He flinched and bit his lip at one point, the blood draining from his face, leaving him pale and panting.

She nodded as Istuion explained what he was doing and why, showing her how to hold the leg while Legolas tightened the muscles, supporting the joint. Then the healer supplied her with more tinctures of _lengwaloth_ and _belholch_ to be given at regular intervals throughout the day, as well as a vial of herbal oil for her to rub into the knee and the muscles above and below it to increase circulation and help alleviate stiffness. The strong smell permeated the room, and she wrinkled her nose. It was not an unpleasant smell, but a spicy mix of lavender, _belholch,_ and chamomile, reminding her of fresh pine sap.

"I expect him to do these exercises twice a day as we've just done: in the morning and before he retires for the night," Istuion explained. "In a few days, we'll increase it to three times. I'd like to get him moving on crutches, but I fear we'll have to let those ribs heal a bit more first. It will set him back a bit with walking, but we'll try to make up for it with the exercises." Cellinn nodded, hoping she would remember everything she needed to do. Istuion eased her concern when he finished with, "I'll be back this evening to watch and make sure you've understood all I've said." Then the healer smiled, patted Legolas's good leg and left them.

Legolas slept most of the afternoon. The exercises and accompanying pain had exhausted him. Cellinn used the time to explore Legolas's rooms, though she longed to work on her tapestry. As yet, her loom had not been moved from her parent's rooms, and she had not really discussed such things with Legolas. Rarely had she even entered his rooms and never had she ventured past the sitting room until last eve, so she curiously explored, poking through drawers, looking at items on shelves (many making her smile as she found some small gift she had given him over the years), and opening doors she had not noticed before.

There was another door in the bedroom that led to a small room Legolas used for storage. Cellinn, however, could see the room had been designed for another purpose, and she flushed with delight even as she bit her lip in slight embarrassment. She could envision a rocking chair in one corner and a cradle along one wall…

_One day_ , she mused with a smile, _but not any time soon_ , she decided. She wanted him to herself for many years before venturing into the trials and blessings of raising children.

In the evening, Thranduil and Eirien joined them for dinner. With Thranduil's help, Legolas was able to sit in a chair at a table set up in the sitting room, though he complained about being carried. Thranduil would have none of his protestations, however.

"I'll not have you hopping around and jarring that leg!" his father insisted. "Istuion said, 'Carry you,' and carry you I shall. I'm still your adar, little one, and we'll do it my way."

Legolas sulked but submitted to the decree. To everyone's relief, his mood improved when he found his favorite dish — roasted venison tenderloin, drenched in rich gravy — was to be served alongside roasted root vegetables drenched in rich gravy, sliced apples and pears dotted with currants and a bowl of candied hickory nuts. After a leisurely meal, shared over much laughter and conversation, Thranduil and Eirien retired to their own rooms.

As Cellinn climbed into bed that night, curling up beside her husband without even blushing as she wrapped an arm around his lean waist, she could not help but feel utterly content. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

**Many weeks later…**

"You can do it!"

Cellinn's voice urged Legolas on even as she beckoned to him with one hand outstretched. He wanted to reach her, to snatch her up and swing her around in his arms as he once had. It felt so long ago that he had walked and moved freely. With a sigh, he gritted his teeth, set his crutches and placing only slight weight on his bad leg, took a step forward. He hissed through his teeth at the discomfort. Oh how he hated the cursed crutches! And the pain, and the stiffness, and not being able to walk and run and do everything he had been able to do before!

Cellinn cheered as if he had just won his first archery tournament instead of managing to take a step bearing weight. He glared at her, and her smile slipped a little. Mentally, he kicked himself. He would not take this out on her. He would not! She was only trying to help, and she had been so supportive. None of this was anyone's fault…

Anchoring himself with the crutches, he let his head fall back, closing his eyes. He almost wished he were still a child and could let the tears of frustration fall. Everything in his life at the moment seemed to cause him frustration. He needed help to dress, someone to fetch his crutches, needed the cursed crutches to walk, and had yet to see his wife naked…

He groaned.

"Just two more steps," her voice soothed. "Just two more and we'll call it a day."

"No," he ground out, dropping his head and opening his eyes to meet her gaze. She had moved closer. "Go back. I'm going the whole way today."

"You don't have to push yourself so hard—"

"Yes, I do." He grimaced as she flinched at his tone. He sounded so angry, but then, he was angry! Just not at her. He forced a smile. "I need to lose these cursed crutches, and I never will if I don't take more than three steps."

A tiny smile touched her eyes and lips. She stepped back across the room. "Then come on." Her smile turned seductive, though he knew she had no understanding of what the look did to him. "Come get your reward." She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss.

With a growl, he set the crutches and took another step, but in his haste, he misjudged and nearly tumbled to the floor. A strong grip kept him upright.

"While I admire your resolve, if you do not go slowly and take care, you'll end up re-injuring yourself. I know you don't want to spend more time in bed." Legolas glanced up at Istuion, who winked at him. "At least, not limited as you are now," the healer finished in a tone pitched for Legolas's ears only.

Heat suffused his face. "That is cruel, Istuion," he muttered under his breath, but the healer heard him and grinned.

"Soon," Istuion whispered, causing Legolas's heart to race. He locked hopeful eyes with the healer, but got a negative shake of the head. "Not until you're walking without the crutches, and preferably with little to no pain."

"What are you two whispering about?" Cellin called to them. Legolas glanced up to find her standing arms akimbo, one foot tapping. "Are you coming to me or shall I leave you two to your secrets?"

Taking a deep breath, he balanced himself with care and slowly moved the crutches to take most of his weight as he placed his injured leg forward and took another step. He groaned as the crutches dug into his ribs, but pressed on, ignoring the ache in his knee.

-o-

Legolas shifted beneath the covers, reaching up to run a finger lightly over Cellin's hand resting against his chest. She sighed and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. He smiled. He loved having her here, even though it frustrated him. He had long since wished he had let her dress him in his nightshirt that first night, as since then, she had accepted him sleeping unclothed. The shirt might have helped his body not get such ideas as it now held. He tried to force his thoughts to other things so it would forget such notions.

"Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

She moved beside him, rising up on her elbow. In the dark, he could not see her, but he could feel her regard. "What were you and Istuion whispering about today?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "He just warned me that if I wasn't careful I'd find myself cooped back up in bed."

"Then why was he whispering?"

Knowing she could not see his expression, he let his lips tug upwards in a grin. "He was teasing me, that's all."

She sighed and laid back down, but there was a tenseness to her that was not usually there. He let his fingers trail up her arm and shoulder until he found her face. He stroked her brow lightly, leaning over to place a kiss to the top of her head. "He was teasing me that I'd be confined to bed and not for certain enjoyable activities…"

He felt her stiffen even more, and frowned. "Cellinn?"

"Hmm?" she sounded uncertain.

"Are you still afraid?"

She squeaked an incoherent reply.

He blinked. Well, he should have expected this. Why would her fear just go away? They had not discussed it or even spoken of it at all. She still blushed if she caught a glimpse of him naked, always averting her eyes; and she was meticulous in making sure he did _**not**_ see her in such a state, adding to his frustration.

He drew her closer, reaching out to lift her chin so he could kiss her lips. It was a gentle kiss, one to reassure her, and when he pulled back, he heard her sigh.

Then her words spilled out in a rush. "I wanted to talk to you about it before…before we wed, but then you got hurt…and-and everything happened so fast!" She let out a shaky laugh. "I guess I assumed we'd have plenty of time since you needed to get better first, but you're walking now, and Istuion is teasing you…"

He swallowed, remembering the healer's promise of 'soon'. His body leapt at the thought, and he nearly groaned. Discussing it when he was unable to act on it was probably not the best thing to do. It would only make him think more on it, and his thoughts dwelt there too much as it was. His frustration was becoming unbearable with her so close. But if he could set her mind at ease…

"What do you wish to know?"

"Everything," she whispered.

He blinked, opened his mouth, then blinked again. "Did your mother explain nothing?" he asked in disbelief.

"Oh she explained a lot…I think." She sighed heavily, sounding rather frustrated herself. "I understand the basic principle of what's to happen. I mean, who hasn't seen the horses in the spring?" Even in the dark, he could feel the heat of her face against his shoulder. "But there is much I don't understand, things she said I'd find out only through experience, by seeing. It's so confusing and it frightens me! I don't know why she couldn't speak plainly. Though, she might have. I found it hard to listen. It was so embarrassing! And she often rambled on and on about nothing or about what I should or shouldn't do and told me so little about what I could expect from you and…and…"

Legolas covered her mouth with his fingers, holding back laughter. "You're babbling," he said simply, removing his fingers and replacing them with his lips. Indeed, there were things that would be easier to show her than trying to explain. He looked forward to showing her those very things. In fact, many nights, such as at this moment, it was difficult not to take her hand and trail it down his stomach…

No, he could not think of that now. He would never stop at showing her his body's reaction to being so close to her. It would demand more, and he could not act on it. Not with his knee aching as it did after putting it through such strenuous exercise that day. This discussion would need to wait.

Grasping at a way to change the subject, he blurted out, "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Silence.

"Cellinn?"

"You can't see me in the dark!"

He grinned. "I don't have to. I can see you in my mind…" His voice trailed off as an image came unbidden. One he had long forgotten but remembering caused his mouth to go dry and his pulse to quicken. "The lake," he whispered to himself. He had forgotten that.

Many years ago, when he first began to take notice of the opposite gender, he had done something despicable…but also delightful. He had secretly followed the girls to the lake to watch them swim. It had been one of the few times Cellinn had joined the other girls, as the two of them had reached an age where swimming together had become improper. A slow smile turned his lips, and for good reason, considering the curves she had developed underneath that wet shift!

"What about the lake?"

His face heated. Did he dare admit it to her? Tell her what he had done? He had never told anyone! Indeed, while he had appreciated the view, his guilt and the strange feelings the view had elicited had kept him from following a second time, though he had wanted to do so. He had not understood the emotions, not until that day Cellinn had pushed him out of her life. Dare he admit it now? That even during those awkward years, he had been attracted to her? Found her beautiful?

"I — I…" He gulped, unsure what her reaction would be. She might get very angry with him, and rightfully so! But now that he had let it slip, she would never let him stay silent. "Well, um, many years ago, um, I may have seen something I shouldn't have…at the lake."

She suddenly sat straight up in bed beside him. "Legolas Thranduilion! Tell me you did _**not**_ follow us to the lake!" She sounded horrified rather than angry. He felt her draw her knees up and wrap her arms protectively around herself. "Oh, I knew it!" Now she sounded forlorn.

He grasped for how to explain why he had done it. "I was curious."

She trembled beside him, and he ran his hand over her back in an effort to comfort her. She shrugged it off. "Of course you were. What male wouldn't be?"

Why did she sound like she was about to cry? Was she that upset that he had seen her swimming in a wet shift? True, it had revealed her shape, but it had been a muddy brown color, not translucent like the ones some of the other maids wore.

"She's so pretty. Why wouldn't you have wanted to see her…like that?" Her breath hitched.

_Wait…what? See who?_

He heard her sniff in the darkness. At a simple gesture from him, a single torch on one wall lit with a red, smokeless light, revealing her, arms tight around her knees, her face buried against them. A knot formed in his throat. He sat up and gathered her against his side. She fought him for a moment, then to his relief, gave up, leaning into him, trembling, sniffling…crying? _By the stars!_ He had missed something significant, but what?

He tried to soothe her, holding her and caressing her arm, her face and hair. He did not think her reaction had anything to do with his spying on her in her wet shift. Or did it? Why did females have to be so complicated?

Finally, she stopped shaking and her breathing became steadier. She sniffed again, and he became aware that his shoulder was wet with her tears. He pulled the blanket up to wipe them away from her cheeks, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Linnaew?" he prompted, desperate to know what had caused her reaction.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm being silly, I know. It's normal. My mother assured me of that at the time, though I didn't know you had taken to spying on her while swimming!" Now she sounded angry. "How could you do that?"

"I was curious," he repeated at a loss for words. Who was she talking about? He had been spying on **_her_** _ **!** _ No other had held his interest in such a fashion. Oh, he had looked at the others, too, but they had not compared to his Cellinn! "What her? Who are you talking about?"

"Ninglorwen."

Legolas cringed. That conniving, self-absorbed, grasping… He stopped himself before he found himself cursing. Just the mention of that lady's name was enough to make him furious with her all over again.

Cellinn continued. "I know you watched her. Why wouldn't you? She was always so beautiful with her silvery-blonde hair and green eyes."

"I like blue eyes." He touched a tendril of her hair that had slipped from her braid. It was burnished red in the light. "And mahogany hair."

But she ignored him, too caught up in what she was saying. "I watched you watch them, but mostly her. I always thought you'd pursue her, but you never did." She glanced up at him through her lashes. "I'm sure she'd never have had any hesitation in bedding you."

Ire flared in his chest. "I have no desire to be bedded; I'd rather be the one doing the bedding, and certainly not Ninglorwen!" He felt disgusted at just the suggestion. "Why would you think such a thing?" he asked.

"I saw you! You watched the other girls, Legolas. You _**never**_ looked at me like that!"

His breath stilled in his chest as he realized she had wanted him to; she had never shown the least outwards sign, but she had wanted him to look at her. He shook his head, drowning in eyes bluer than the bluest sky. "I was never interested in Ninglorwen, or any other girl for that matter." He brought the lock of hair to his lips, using it to tug her over so he could kiss her temple again. "There was only you."

Her brows drew together in a frown. "But…"

He lifted his fingers to her lips, stilling her words. "I made sure you never caught me looking at you in such a way. I didn't understand my feelings at the time. So if you glanced at me, I made sure to look at any other nearby. I was very confused by the feelings…" He gulped, tracing a finger down her cheek. "Cellinn, when I followed the group to the lake that day, it was to see you."

She blinked up at him, her expression turning to a look of wonder. "Me?"

He nodded, then grinned sheepishly. "Oh, I looked at the others." He dropped his gaze, feeling heat suffuse his cheeks and creep up his ears. "I _**was**_ curious, but…" He glanced back up at her. "None of them compared to you, not even in that ugly brown shift your mother made you wear. Your hair tumbled over your shoulder…" He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glancing down at her mouth, then lower. "And the cloth clung to you, and you were so beautiful." His voice grew hoarse as he remembered. He looked back up into her eyes, surprised to see more tears slipping down her cheeks.

He angled himself so he could cup her face in both hands, using his thumbs to wipe the wet trails away. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and when her lips parted, he took advantage where he usually refrained: He let his tongue touch hers, and when she did not resist, he delved further into her mouth while drawing her closer to him.

She responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. Carefully, he lowered her back onto the bed without breaking the kiss, the weight of his upper body pressing against her soft form as he kissed and kissed her, losing himself in her caresses. Her hands trailed down his back and he shifted, pressing the whole length of his body against her side.

She gasped and pulled away just enough to blink up at him in shock. It was then he realized she could feel his response to her, pressed against her hip. His gaze burned into hers.

"That," he whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, "is what you do to me."

If it were not for the pain in his knee that reminded him he was in no condition to act on his desire, he would have shown her a lot more. Instead, with great effort, he withdrew, lying back in his place, tugging her over and tucking her against his side where she belonged. They did not speak; just laid comfortably in each other's presence, his arm around her shoulders, hers draped across his waist. As his heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal, sleep crept in. As he slipped into dreams, the torch went out.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

_lengwaloth – Sindarin. 'sweet blossom'. A word I made up for meadowsweet, an herb from which the main ingredient in aspirin can be found. Used for pain and inflammation._

_belholch – Sindarin. 'strong root'. A word I made up for a plant I made up that exists in Middle-earth in NiRi!Verse. It is similar to modern day ginger root and has similar properties and smell. Rarely used as a spice for cooking, among the elves it is valued for its healing properties, including increased circulation and control of pain and inflammation._

* * *


	18. Just A Taste

Over the next couple of weeks, Cellinn's thoughts frequently drifted to that night when Legolas had told her she was beautiful, that he had never been interested in Ninglorwen, that she was the only one he had ever wanted. And that kiss…and his reaction to it, and the feelings the kiss had ignited in her. Curiosity now battled with her fear. She wanted to know more, to experience more of his touch, to see his reaction, to touch him…

"Cellinn?"

Startled, she glanced up at Minuialwen, and realized where her thoughts had wandered. Her cheeks burned as she met her friend's gaze.

Minuialwen lifted a brow. "Oh, now you have to tell me just what thoughts have turned you _**that**_ shade of red!" She turned away from the tapestry, her hands rubbing together slightly as if in anticipation of a juicy piece of gossip. "Have you two finally…" She winked.

Cellinn felt her face burn hotter. "NO!" she gasped, horrified. "He's only just begun walking without the crutches, and Istuion will barely let him walk across the room. He still has to use a single crutch unless he's doing his exercises. And his knee still pains him! And—"

Minuialwen shook her head, interrupting her babbling. "Alright. I just thought, maybe you two had spurned Istuion's interference and, well, you know..." She smiled in such a contented fashion that Cellinn began to wonder just what it was she was missing. A sudden thought occurred to her.

"Minuialwen?"

"Hmm?" The princess had resumed working on the tapestry, letting the subject drop. If there was one trait Cellinn appreciated in her friend, it was that Minuialwen might pry but not so much as to make a person truly uncomfortable. If Cellinn really did not wish to speak, the subject would be dropped.

However, she had realized that perhaps she should not let the subject drop. It was still an embarrassing topic but she might get more information from Minuialwen than from her mother or Legolas. At the least, she could hopefully set her biggest fear aside.

"Will it hurt?"

Minuialwen's fingers stilled on the tapestry and her head slowly turned. The princess regarded her with a sharp, penetrating look. There was no doubt she had understood exactly what Cellinn meant. Then she sighed and released the threads, draping her hands on her extended belly. She rubbed in a soothing pattern, and Cellinn wondered if the child within her had taken to kicking again. Her friend had recently begun complaining of difficulty sleeping due to the restless movements of the unborn babe.

"I won't lie to you, Cellinn," Minuialwen began in a serious tone. "The first time is not the most pleasant experience. It's awkward, uncomfortable and yes, there is some pain, but trust me when I say the joy of joining with your beloved will make it all worth it. And it won't take you two long to figure things out enough that you won't wish to leave your chambers very often!" She grinned, her eyes drifting to her bedroom chamber door. "There's a good reason the newly wedded are encouraged to take some time just to themselves. I'm sure when the time comes, you and Legolas will be granted a period of uninterrupted privacy."

She caught Cellinn's gaze again. "There's nothing to fear, though telling you that sure doesn't make it easier, does it?"

Cellinn smiled wryly and shook her head. "My mother kept telling me that, but I cannot help it! I don't know what to expect! She gave generalizations or told me to wait and see." Running a frustrated hand over her skirts, she sighed.

"She's right," Minuialwen said with a smile. "Some things are better learned simply from experience. I could tell you everything, but it would lessen your wonder — and some things should be marveled over."

In a way, that made sense, though it frustrated Cellinn to know she would not get the answers she sought. However, the little that Minuialwen had shared was enough to answer the most important question. And yet, why then did she still feel afraid?

She opened her mouth to question her friend further, but at that moment she heard the outer door open and close. Arandur had returned. Cellinn sighed in disappointment. There would be no more time to talk this day, and she was no closer to figuring out just why she felt the way she did.

-o-

Legolas would have walked with a bounce to his step if he had not needed to use the blasted crutch. He had just left another session with Istuion. It had been grueling and his knee was very sore, but at the end of it, the healer had smiled and told him he had healed enough to participate in certain activities.

After that night when he had told Cellinn about the lake, he had avoided much physical interaction with his wife to save himself from painful frustration. Now he could act! Could take his beloved in his arms and make her truly his in every way. A smile turned his lips as he limped down the hall.

But it faded as he recalled how Cellinn had stiffened against him and her gasp of surprise at his body's reaction to her kisses. He sighed and stopped a minute to rest his aching leg. He knew he needed to take things slowly, though how he would hold himself back he had no idea. But perhaps he could allow himself to become bolder bit by bit? He had longed to touch her and see what her clothing hid from his eyes. Perhaps he could simply do some exploring and give her time to understand his body's reactions, time to adjust to his touch. It was definitely time to remove her garments! He grinned at the thought and resumed making his slow way to his chambers.

As he walked, he planned the evening. He decided to detour by the kitchens to make arrangements for dinner to be brought to his rooms. Since he had been allowed up on crutches, he and Cellinn ate in the main hall most nights, but tonight would be special. Just the two of them could celebrate his achievement of walking unaided around the healing ward. And then afterwards, he could kiss her and perhaps convince her to let him help her change into her nightgown.

Just a peek, he told himself. With the way his leg ached, he decided he would definitely not push for more this night, but the chance to help his wife remove her garments, to get a glimpse of what lay underneath would be enough to start.

-o-

Cellinn was surprised that Legolas had planned a private dinner in their rooms. He preferred eating in the main hall where he could speak with the other warriors. Though the youngest of the trainees, he was one of the most popular. Her heart swelled with pride when she thought of how hard he worked at both his skills and making friends. Everyone loved him.

A spark of annoyance rose within her as she recalled the few people she would rather _**not**_ take such interest in him. Ninglorwen still took every opportunity to be in his presence. She never actually overstepped the bounds of propriety, but Cellinn would never be comfortable with that lady anywhere near her husband.

"What's that look for?"

Glancing up, she winced as she realized she had let her thoughts wander to unpleasant topics when she should be enjoying the evening with her husband all to herself. "I'm sorry. I let my thoughts wander."

He reached across the table and traced a finger over her fingers. "Care to share?"

"It's really not worth repeating," she said, not wishing to darken their evening.

"Oh." He dropped his gaze to his lap. He looked disappointed that she had not shared her thoughts. His fingers even slid away, but she caught them, drawing them back and running her thumb lovingly over his knuckles. His eyes lifted to meet hers.

"I was just thinking that Ninglorwen still tries to be near you at every opportunity. I don't like it."

His brows lifted in surprise. "You aren't still worried that—"

She shook her head, interrupting him. "Oh, no! I don't worry about _**you**_ at all! I just don't like her watching you so much, trying to be close to you…"

"Jealous?" He grinned impishly at her.

"Possessive!" she declared with a smile of her own. "You're mine, not hers and I don't want her looking at you like that!"

"I like it when _**you**_ look at me like that." His voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. Her mouth went dry and her cheeks heated. Biting her lip, she dropped her eyes, then dipped her chin and glanced up at him through her lashes. Her heart flipped with satisfaction when she noticed his breath hitch.

"Like this?" she asked coyly, hoping she managed the look.

"Yes," he breathed. The look in his eyes caused her heart to flutter. Oh, now _**he**_ was the one looking at her in that— Oh! She did not have the right words! But that way that he did that made her heart race and her cheeks flush and her heart flip over.

Then he stood up and reached for his crutch, limping around the table. She sat frozen, unable to move, looking up at him as he gazed down on her with such heat in his eyes she felt she would burst into flame from the intensity of his gaze. He held out his free hand, and she took it, letting him help her to rise. Her chair pushed back and tipped over behind her but she was too caught up in her husband's eyes to make much note of it. The chair could wait for the morrow to be righted.

And then he pulled her close against him, his mouth lowering to hers, kissing her breathless. Her fingers lifted to trace over his cheek and then buried into his hair drawing him even closer. She longed for another kiss like the one they had shared briefly before, but he pulled back before it deepened.

"Come to bed with me," he whispered.

Cellinn nodded, unable to pull her gaze away from the swirling emotion in the grey eyes that held her as if she were the most priceless treasure in Arda. Somehow she made it to their bed chamber hardly remembering the steps. She found herself standing with her back to him, as his fingers began working on the fastenings of her gown.

It seemed unreal, as if a dream. Yet she stood, allowing him to work, even as her thoughts swirled, conflicting with the heat he stirred in her. She was not ready for such intimacy yet! And with that look in his eyes, she doubted he would restrain himself to just helping her undress. But the movement of his fingers along her back felt right, and the burning fire he had ignited in her held her silent and still.

Biting her lip she felt his hands loosening the ties, felt the cool air caress her shoulders and back as the lacings came undone. He drew in an audible breath and traced a finger down her spine, causing her to shiver. The fingers of both his hands came to rest on her shoulders, pausing on the material of her gown where it hung just waiting to be pushed down to reveal her in her thin linen shift.

Cellinn's heart raced but she could not bring herself to stop him. Was not even sure she wanted him to stop. His left hand moved, the material sliding to the point of her shoulder…

A thump sounded, then a hiss and his fingers dug slightly into her skin before releasing her. Turning, she realized his crutch had fallen, and he stood on both legs, a grimace tightening his features. He stared balefully at the crutch, his hatred of it and the weakness that required its use replacing the heat in his eyes.

The fire within her went out as if she had been doused by a bucket of cold water. He was not ready for this!

Cellinn stooped, one hand holding the front of her gown to her chest. She picked up the crutch, returning it to him and pointing to the bed. "Sit," she commanded.

He frowned but obeyed, his eyes following her as she gathered her things and slipped into the dressing room. She blinked back tears as she closed the door. He had looked so forlorn! Deciding she would spend extra time rubbing his leg, she made quick work of readying herself for bed.

When she stepped back out of the small room, having changed into her nightgown and braided her hair, she found he had also prepared for bed, and without her assistance. He sat propped by the pillows on _**top**_ of the covers, but oddly, he wore a nightshirt. She wondered at that, as he usually slept naked.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she realized she was disappointed to see him actually _**dressed**_ for bed. But he smiled and patted the spot beside him, though his eyes still held a sadness that caused a prick to her heart. She climbed onto the bed and moved close enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

"We're getting there," she whispered, brushing his loose hair back behind an ear.

"I know." He sighed and did not meet her gaze. His clenched fists remained at his sides and he continued to frown, gazing down at his leg as if it were an enemy. "But I tire of this weakness! I want — No! I _**need**_ more!" His frustration was apparent to Cellinn. She brushed another kiss across his cheek and slipped off the bed to retrieve the balm Istuion required she rub into his leg each night.

As she rubbed the strong smelling oil into the muscles and joint, she could not help pointing out, "You're walking around the room now."

"Once only and that has my leg aching!"

Biting back a smile at his severe frown and sulky tone, she tried to comfort him. "But last week you could not walk across the room, let alone around it. And the week before that you were still on two crutches, not one." When he glanced up at her, his lips quirking into not quite a smile, she leaned forward and kissed him. "You're getting better," she assured him.

His hand lifted to trace her brow, then her lips. "I know. I'm sorry. I just get so frustrated! I wanted—" He broke off and looked away.

She sat down beside him on the bed and reached out, turning him back to face her with a finger under his chin. "You wanted what?"

His shoulders sagged with defeat and he closed his eyes as he answered. "I just wanted to be able to help my wife dress for bed. To have just a taste of what it means to be married." His voice had turned hoarse. "It's so hard, Linn. If I had known…"

"You would have waited to wed?"

He nodded, refusing to look at her.

"I'm glad you didn't," she whispered, kissing his brow and snuggling up against his side.

-o-

Legolas turned and buried his face in her hair, sliding down and drawing her with him so they lay side by side. She wrapped her arm around his waist, and he traced lightly with a finger up and down the soft skin of her arm revealed. He liked this nightgown: sleeveless and billowy, it hid her form but teased him by revealing her slim shoulders and creamy skin of her chest and even a glimpse of the top curve of a breast if she turned just so. He let his eyes rest there now.

She looked up at him then, and he sighed. "I didn't mean it. I'm glad I wed you when I did."

"I know," she replied with a soft smile.

Turning slightly into her embrace, he kissed her, lingering with his lips against hers. She felt so good against him like this. Her foot traced his ankle and her fingers tightened on his nightshirt. He deepened the kiss, tracing his tongue over the seam of her lips, asking for more. When she parted them, he touched his tongue to hers and groaned.

Her hand crept up to his chest and he could not stop himself. His hand slid up her arm until he cupped her breast through the thin material of her nightgown. It was bliss, the feel of her in his hand, the way she moved closer, pressing herself against him. He grew bolder, slipping his fingers beneath the low neckline of her nightgown and feeling her bare skin. She felt so soft, the curve of her breast fitting nicely in his palm. He squeezed gently…

She gasped and pulled away from him so sharply that she nearly fell from the bed to the floor. The shock and look of horror on her face for a moment made him feel guilty.

"Y - You shouldn't… You…" She trembled, her arms clenched tightly across herself.

Thinking she meant he should not pursue her physically due to his leg, he smiled. "Sure I should," he said, moving closer, stalking her. "Istuion has given his blessing." He grinned at her, sliding a hand up her leg, and drawing her nightgown slowly up her calf.

But she paled and scooted to sit up on the edge of the bed, her back to him. Her breathing came in gasps and she still trembled. "Stop it."

The change in her, the look of offense in her eyes when she glanced over her shoulder at him proved too much. He had waited years to make her his wife. Had endured untold pain in heart and body, had been patient and waited and waited and now she would push him away? Now, when they should be celebrating and rejoicing in each other? In that moment, he almost hated her.

He pulled away, sitting up, anger replacing the passion he had felt moments ago. "It is my right," he ground out. "I am your husband." He reached for her again, and tried to pull her back against him, but she fought against it.

He released her and heaved himself to his feet, limping for the door. He paused only to grab his dressing robe from the back of a chair. His crutch was left behind near the bed. He could not cope with this right now. His body, so recently aroused, now ached. Combined with his anger, he knew he needed to leave before he said or did something he would greatly regret later.

He yanked the door open, but her voice paused him. The words came out in barely more than a whisper, and her voice shook, but it was what she said that dealt him a cruel blow.

"If you leave, I will _**never**_ speak to you again!"

He turned slowly to gaze at her in disbelief. She sat on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly about her, but she was not looking at him. And despite her trembling, her obvious fear, for perhaps the first time in his life, he found himself loathing her.

"Is that a promise this time?" he asked before limping heavily out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

**To Be Continued...**


	19. No Bridge to Span the Rift

It took Cellinn all of a minute to realize what she had said. And another full minute for his response to sink in.

_What have I done?_

She jumped up from the bed and ran for the door, opening it and darting through, only to pause to glance back at where Legolas had left his crutch. Dashing back across the room, she grabbed it and rushed through the sitting room and exited through the other door that had slammed shut behind him. Legolas had left their rooms.

Glancing up and down the hall, she could see him just down the corridor, leaning heavily against a wall. He pounded on Arandur’s door. Cellinn ran for him, thankful that the late hour had prevented him from disappearing behind a closed door before she could catch up with him.

"Legolas!"

But just as she reached him, Arandur jerked the door open. His eyes were sleepy and his hair was tousled. He appeared to wear only a dressing robe, hastily tied but thankfully covering everything. "What is it," he mumbled, glancing from Legolas to Cellinn and back again.

"Can I come in?" Legolas asked stiffly.

"Wait," Cellinn begged, reaching out to touch his arm. He shook her off and moved closer to the door.

"Can **_I_** come in?" He positioned himself so his back was to her. "Please?"

She could not see his face, but she could tell his gaze burned into Arandur’s eyes. The older prince glanced at her, and she felt panic welling up inside. He could **_not_** go in there without her! He needed to listen to her, give her a chance to explain.

He had completely shocked her a few minutes ago. She had not expected him to be so bold! At first, all she could feel was how wonderful it felt to be in his arms, but then she had realized where he was touching her, and where it would lead…

And she had panicked. Plain and simple. And then she had given into the fear that consumed her whenever she thought of completing their bond. She had fought him, pushed him away, even childishly told him she would never speak to him again. She was a fool. She knew that, but she had to explain it to him. Had to make it right, beg him to forgive her and listen to her and try to make clear…

Arandur looked between them, seeming to read the situation well enough. He opened the door wide and stepped back. Legolas limped through it, turning on her before she could slip in behind him and slamming the door in her face.

He had not even looked at her. She stood frozen outside the door, tears slipping down her cheeks. The closed door felt like a wall between them; no, more like a deep chasm, a vale with no bridge to span the rift between them.

The crutch slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

-o-

Arandur sat down in the sitting room, sensing it would be a long night. Legolas leaned with his back against the door, his shoulders slumped. He was shaking. It was not until he lifted his head that Arandur realized his young brother was shaking with anger.

Ah, so they had had their first fight since being married! He started to smile, but something in Legolas’s face raised a coil of doubt. Something told him this had not been a typical fight between the newly wedded. Something had happened, something significant, something dangerous.

He stood up and grabbed Legolas by the arm, leading him to the settee and pushing him down onto it. "Sit there a moment," he commanded, and when Legolas nodded, he strode swiftly to his bedchamber.

Minuialwen was sitting up in their bed, one hand rubbing over her swollen belly. "What is it?" she asked, concern filling her eyes.

"Legolas is here, and he’s very angry. I think he and Cellinn had a fight, but I don’t think it’s anything simple."

As soon as he had said the word fight, Minuialwen had started to rise. She pulled on a dressing robe, tied it and followed him back out to where Legolas sat staring at the opposite wall.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked without looking up. His voice lacked any emotion. The anger Arandur had seen earlier seemed to have vanished. Now he looked a bit lost. Perhaps things were not as bad as Arandur had feared.

"I can sleep here on the settee. I just need a blanket."

Arandur sighed and shared a look with Minuialwen. She stepped over to the settee and carefully lowered herself onto it. She was so round and adorable maneuvering like that! But he was distracted from her form when she began rubbing Legolas’s back in a comforting manner and asked, "Are you sure you want to do that? Perhaps you just need to talk it out and then go back and make peace with your wife."

"She’s not my wife!" Legolas hissed out so vehemently, Minuialwen flinched, and Arandur felt his blood turn to ice. So the anger had not dissipated. It only simmered, building the longer it was trapped inside.

"What do you mean she’s not your wife?" Arandur asked, not liking his brother’s choice of words. The anger he could understand. Every couple fought and got angry with each other, but the look in Legolas’s eyes and the declaration unsettled him. He wondered if he should send for his father.

The cold grey eyes that looked up at him chilled him. "It’s just what I said," Legolas stated in another hiss. He sneered in a manner Arandur had never seen on him before. "She is not my wife. Not in truth. It could be undone."

Minuialwen gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. Her eyes were wide with shock and tears filled them. Arandur sank into the nearest chair, staring at the stranger that was his brother. "You don’t mean that," he said, his voice hoarse with his disbelief at what he was hearing.

Legolas looked away, biting his lip, and Arandur felt some hope well up within him. If Legolas had truly meant it, he would have looked him in the eye and said it. Oh, he might be thinking he meant it at the moment, but people thought all kinds of stupid things when they were angry and upset. Why, he had once entertained the idea of returning Minuialwen to her father shortly after they had wed! Wisely, he had not ever told her of that thought.

Slowly, Minuialwen dropped her hand to rest on her belly. She took a deep breath, casting him a helpless look, then gazed back at Legolas. "Tell us what happened."

Haltingly, the story came out. It was a touchy subject, and Legolas seemed to struggle to find the right words. At times, he flushed red, but he pushed on, getting the tale out, for which Arandur was grateful. The anger in him needed to be released in some manner and talking was a good outlet for it. But then, his brother reached the last parts of the tale, and Arandur sat back, stunned.

" ** _She said what_**?" Minuialwen squeaked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Legolas sneered again and repeated it and then added the part about his response to her and his leaving their chambers.

"YOU SAID **_WHAT_**?" Arandur roared, anger heating his face. Oh, by the trees and stars, his brother was an idiot!

"DON’T YOU **_DARE_** TAKE HER SIDE IN THIS!" Legolas yelled, his face reddening and his eyes flashing and daring them to protest his response. "She has pushed me away and pushed me away, and I will not tolerate it any more!" His breath hitched, and then he dropped his head into his hands. "I cannot," he whispered. His shoulders shook, and Arandur could see just how deeply hurt his little brother was. And in his hurt, Legolas was lashing out in anger as a means of protecting the inner wounds. Indeed, Cellinn had injured him deeply too many times. And yet…

She had followed on his heels. She had not stayed in their quarters to brood or sulk. She had had a desperate look on her face. The look of one who had made a dreadful mistake and knew it.

Looking helplessly at Minuialwen and unsure what else to do, he ran a hand through his hair and said, "You can stay here tonight. Perhaps things won’t look so bleak in the morning." Indeed, perhaps sleeping on the matter would help them both cool down and speak reasonably. Or at least mellow Legolas enough to hear Cellinn out, he hoped.

Legolas nodded but did not look up.

-o-

Thranduil yanked open the door to the hall and strode out, still pulling on his robe and tying it as he searched out the cause for the disruption of the peace that usually pervaded his halls in the late evenings. One after another there had been slamming doors disturbing his quiet time with his wife. One door might not be too out of the ordinary, but repeated? Something was going on and he would find the source of it.

Looking first towards Legolas's rooms, he found the door wide open. He frowned and started towards it, but a sound drew his attention towards Arandur's rooms. And there, just outside his eldest son's door was Cellinn. She sat with her back against the door, her knees drawn up under her nightgown and her face buried in her folded arms. At her feet lay Legolas's crutch. Her shoulders shook, and he could hear her sobs.

He sighed, strode down the hall to where she sat, bent and picked up the crutch, setting it against the wall beside her. Then he stooped so he was on the same level with her and stared at his weeping daughter by marriage, unsure of exactly how to deal with the situation. Obviously, something had happened. The slamming doors up and down the hall, Legolas's crutch, her presence here… Well, it was inevitable that the two of them would have a fight, he supposed, but he had never expected something quite like this.

"Look at me, child," he said, reaching out to stroke Cellinn's braided hair. She lifted a tear-streaked face that was etched in misery. "Did the two of you argue?"

Her lip quivered and then her face crumpled with more weeping. Her arms wrapped around herself as she rocked back and forth. "He hates me," she whispered. "And I deserve it."

Thranduil ran a hand over his face, wishing he was not the one who had to deal with this mess. The two children had always been well suited, but Cellinn had a volatile temper, whereas Legolas's temper, though no less in intensity, was not so easily stirred. All their lives the two had engaged in spats of some sort, but while Cellinn was quick to anger, she was also quick to forgive and forget. And Legolas somehow always managed to worm his way back into her good graces. In fact, they were the opposite of Thranduil and his wife: he being the counter to Cellinn and Legolas being much like his even-tempered mother.

Well, as much as he disliked it, someone had to take charge and fix whatever had happened. And knowing Cellinn and her family as he did, it was probably best if it were he to do so. "Come on," he urged, reaching out to help her to her feet.

With an arm around her shoulders, he led her back to Legolas’s rooms and eased her down into a cushioned chair. He took the one opposite her, after fetching a handkerchief from the bedchamber, and waited for her to calm enough that he could speak to her. Finally, she wiped her face, blew her nose and met his gaze.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

Her face fell, and her cheeks darkened, but she fumbled through the story, stumbling over many parts and frequently burying her face in her hands. But eventually, it all came out.

Thranduil sat back and folded his arms, considering this newest daughter. She had claimed fear, but he wondered if her fear had only to do with the physical act of love and not something more. Only one way to find out, he supposed.

"Child, do you understand the act of love? The joining of two until they become one?" She glanced up sharply at him, a look of horror on her face. "Oh, come now," he assured her. "We are both adults. Either you understand it or you don’t. If it is truly the act you fear, then I shall go and fetch my wife and let the two of you have a long chat. However," he paused and smiled gently at her, "I suspect there is something else entirely that you fear."

She bit her lip and looked away. "I understand what happens…for the most part. I suppose."

He harrumphed and decided he would have Eirien speak to the child regardless just to make certain. But first, he needed to deal with the main issue — her fear and the root of it.

"Cellinn." She glanced back at him with a look of uncertainty. "You are not your mother, and Legolas is not your father."

Her lip trembled and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

That then truly was what was at the bottom of it. And he sat and talked with her about it for over an hour before sending her to bed. Then he joined his wife, and explained all that had happened, and the two of them decided to give the young couple a chance to work things out on their own. Legolas would in all likelihood be calmed down by morning. But if not, they would need to intervene.

He would not allow two foolish children to ruin their own happiness! Not while he was King of Greenwood at any rate.

-o-

After settling Legolas on the settee with a pillow and a blanket, Arandur and Minuialwen returned to their bed. Arandur sighed. "I fear this blow was too much for him with all that has come before. She followed him here, and I could see the remorse in her eyes, but he would not even look at her!"

"I’ll speak to her tomorrow," Minuialwen said. "Perhaps they just need some time. In the morning, he may see things differently. If she came after him so quickly, she must have realized… Maybe tomorrow he'll at least consent to hear her out."

"We can only hope," Arandur agreed. "I’ve never seen Legolas act like that before. I fear for him in this state." He frowned, again wondering if he should seek out his father, then decided to let his parents sleep. Morning would be soon enough to seek them out and inform them of the situation.

They talked long into the night about how to help, but in the end, they realized much would be up to Legolas and Cellinn. They could only hope the two of them could forgive and move on.

-o-

Morning had not changed Legolas. He had eventually fallen asleep but he had not slept well. He was up long before he heard Arandur and Minuialwen stirring. He would have sought solace in the trees, but he was not dressed to wander the halls and there was simply no way he was returning to his rooms where he might come across **_her._**

His anger flared in his chest, and he nursed it, feeding it by remembering all the times Cellinn had caused him pain. Since he had realized he loved her, she had caused him no end of hurt! She had pulled and pushed him back and forth like a branch caught in a windstorm. And like a fool, he had let her. He had made excuses for her, told himself she was just young. But she had not changed. Oh, he had thought she had matured, but she had proven last eve just how cruel she could be, playing on his compassion and love just as he manipulated the notes in a song on his flute.

He ground his teeth. He would burn the blasted flute as soon as he could get hold of it. Let it smolder to ashes just as his love for her…

He jerked to his feet, shoving the coil of doubt down. No, he would not let her hurt him again. For once he would hurt her. Cause her some of the pain he had endured.

A knock came from the door, and Legolas checked his robe then limped over to open it. His hand paused on the door latch. What if it was her? She had followed him last night. No doubt to beg his forgiveness, so she could play with his heart some more.

The knock came again, only this time a voice accompanied it. "Legolas? I heard you limp over here, now open the door."

He swallowed, pulled it open and stared into his father's eyes. How Thranduil knew he was here, he did not know, but one thing was certain, he had no wish to discuss the situation with his father. Thranduil would not bend on certain issues and scandal in his household was one of them.

Thranduil held out the hated crutch that he had left in his rooms last night. In his anger, he had left it and his fury had carried him much further than Istuion wished him walking without it. He felt it this morning in the deep ache that would be relieved when Cellinn…

He reached for the crutch and forced his thoughts elsewhere, ignoring the flash of pain and remorse that pierced through him. There would be no more of her rubbing the smelly ointment into his leg to ease his pain. No more teasing and smiles. No more kisses and hopes for the future.

It felt like someone had run him through with a sword. The next thing he knew, his father had stepped through the door and drawn him into an embrace. And then to his horror, he was crying. Not just tears, but deep sobs of hurt and grief and loss. He only let himself weep for a few short moments, however. He did not wish to release the pain, did not want to let it go.

Pulling back, he wiped his face on his robe and then met his father’s eyes with determination and a lift of his chin.

"So that’s the way of it," Thranduil said so matter-of-factly, Legolas blinked in surprise. "So be it. I have never known you to be a fool, and if you chose to go this route, without even hearing her out, then a fool you are."

Then his father’s eyes hardened. "But let me make one thing very clear. You may choose to harbor your anger and hurt, but I expect you to act above reproach before others."

Legolas opened his mouth to declare he wanted it over, only to snap it shut at the look his father gave him.

"Not without my consent, you cannot, and I refuse to give it."

With that, the King spun and left, leaving Legolas to figure out on his own how to obtain access to his rooms and clothing without confronting Cellinn.

**To Be Continued…**


	20. Ninglorwen

Cellinn decided the past two weeks had been the worst of her life. If she had thought things were bad that first night, when Legolas stormed out of their rooms, she found they only got worse. The first week, he stayed with Arandur and Minuialwen, and Cellinn did not even see him. Arandur came the morning after their fight and apologetically collected some of Legolas's clothing.

"How is he?" she asked, desperate for some word of him.

But Arandur only shrugged and gave her a sad look. "He's been better. His knee is bothering him." At her gasp, he rushed on, "He'll be alright, Cellinn. Just needs some time. He walked too far on it, but Istuion said no damage was done."

That was a relief, at least.

Minuialwen came later in the day, and they talked, but for once, Cellinn found Minuialwen strangely silent, offering little advice. The princess listened, nodding as Cellinn explained everything, but it seemed as if Minuialwen did not wish to get too involved in their fight. Cellinn understood that her friend was in an awkward position; but with Legolas – her closest friend – not speaking to her, and Minuialwen – her next closest friend – not saying much, Cellinn did not really have anyone to open up her heart and discuss the situation.

Then, to her surprise, Thranduil showed up at her door late in the afternoon. At first, she felt awkward speaking to him, but strangely, she found her father by marriage to be a wonderful confidant. She had never realized before how well he knew her. He offered keen insight into not just her relationship with Legolas but her own reactions.

That first week was enlightening to Cellinn. Though she ached to have Legolas back in their rooms and talking to her, she spoke to Thranduil and Eirien, and even her father, learning much about herself. After every talk, she understood herself more, and longed to share what she had discovered with her husband. But he remained absent from their quarters.

Then one morning, a week after their fight, she heard the door to their chambers open. When she peered out of the bedchamber, she found Legolas standing in the doorway, holding his various items of clothing in one arm, his crutch braced with the other. He appeared quite sulky.

"Legolas?"

He did not answer or look at her. He limped to a chair and dropped his things onto it, then turned and left. Cellinn had immediately collected his clothing, holding it to her face and inhaling his scent. Oh, how she missed him! How she wanted to hold **_him_** in her arms rather than his clothes!

Eirien explained what had happened over tea that afternoon. "Arandur tired of his brother's sulking and having him underfoot. He kicked Legolas out of their rooms and told him to go home." The queen smiled. "It wasn't what Legolas wanted to hear. He went straight to Thranduil to request other rooms, but the king would not allow it. Thranduil told him to go home as well."

Cellinn was not quite sure what to think of this new development. Being forced back into their chambers was not going to help alleviate Legolas's ire. If only he would listen! She knew if she could just explain – share with him what she had come to understand about her reactions – her patient and understanding husband would forgive her and help her to overcome her fears.

But the long-suffering and fun-loving prince she had fallen in love with had disappeared. In his place was a sulky, angry and distant man who perpetually frowned from what she had seen and heard. He only returned to sleep in their rooms after she had fallen asleep, and even then, he slept in the sitting room on the couch. When she woke in the mornings, he was always gone, but she saw the signs that he had been there. He did not speak to her and avoided looking at her if they crossed paths. All her attempts to speak with him, to implore him to hear her out were met with a curt turn and his retreat. After the first few times, she quit trying, hoping he just needed more time to calm down.

He did not.

The gossip was nearly unbearable. Cellinn was not sure how people found out so quickly, although she suspected the servants had spread the rumor that there was trouble in the king's family, specifically between the youngest prince and his new wife. Several members of the court assumed rightly that she was to blame, and there were several pointed and condescending remarks made in her presence. She tried to avoid all but those few persons close to her, as the stares and whispers – and worse, the questions – were more than she could bear.

Most of all, she did her best to keep away from Ninglorwen and her friends. The snickers, pointing fingers and disdainful looks pierced her – as did their comments.

"Couldn't even manage to bed him, I heard," one girl said in her hearing.

"I wouldn't have any trouble bedding him!" Ninglorwen remarked, giving her a smug smile. The comments hurt almost as much as when Legolas turned his back on her.

Almost.

She sought solace in the garden, losing herself among the meandering paths and trying to find enjoyment in the awakening of the plants as Spring drew nearer. As she walked, she tried to think of some way to break the silence between them. But after two weeks, she had tried everything she could think of and still he refused to look at her or speak to her.

The worst of all was when she woke one morning to the sound of the door closing. A fire had been lit in the hearth, but with the coming of Spring, wood-fires had not been needed for warmth, so she pondered it a moment, until she realized just what was burning. With a cry of dismay, she threw off the covers and darted across the room. With the poker, she removed a piece of partially-burnt, carved wood – the flute she had given Legolas for his coming of age. It was blackened and charred in places, but not completely destroyed.

Tears fell unheeded as she stared at it. How could he have done this? How could he have willfully destroyed a symbol of their love for one another? She thought of the many times he had played for her – the song he had written for their wedding. He had been playing the flute the day they had admitted they loved one another!

A stranger had replaced her wonderful husband, and Cellinn could not help but wonder if she had driven him away permanently – if his love for her had died.

-o-

The door creaked open and clicked shut, but Thranduil did not look up from the parchment he was reading. He knew immediately who had trespassed on his private domain. Only two people dared to enter his study without knocking: his wife and his closest friend. As Eirien had brought him his luncheon only thirty minutes prior, and had mentioned spending some time in her garden, that meant Angalar was the one who even now crossed the room to where Thranduil sat in one of two chairs before the hearth and lowered himself into the opposite chair.

Neither of them spoke.

Thranduil finished reading, and set the parchment aside on a small table to the right of his chair. He gazed into the cold hearth, waiting for his friend to speak. He did not have to wait long.

"He cannot keep this up."

Thranduil raised a brow and glanced at his friend. "He is miserable. When he gets bad enough, he will reconcile with his wife."

"If she'll still have him."

There was something in his friend's tone that alerted him to trouble. "What do you know that I do not?"

"Ninglorwen." Just the sound of that girl's name raised Thranduil's ire. "She plots even now, and does all she can to be close to Legolas. I've watched her."

His anger became something more dangerous, and his breath left him in a harsh exhalation. "That girl…" he murmured, contemplating Lammaeg's daughter. "I know her father has planted thoughts in her head from the time she was a small child. He dotes on her, spoils her. But not even he would tolerate her forwardness if he truly knew. It's improper!"

"Are you sure, Thranduil? It seems to me that he resents our closeness. He was Oropher's chief councilor—"

"But not mine." Thranduil was adamant about that. He had great respect for his father's old friend. Lammaeg had come from Doriath of old with Oropher, and together they had established the kingdom in Greenwood, side by side. And when Oropher marched to war with his sons, it was Lammaeg who had remained behind, entrusted with the ruling of the realm in the king's absence. But while Thranduil had respected him, he had never liked the 'old goat' (as he and Angalar had come to call him in private). He kept Lammaeg on the council and despite the old one's protests, it was Angalar, Thranduil's dearest friend, who held his confidences.

Angalar sighed. "Have you not seen how he has plotted over the years? How he's worked to get back into the same position with you as he held with Oropher?"

Thranduil frowned, thinking. Indeed, there had been little things over the years that had nagged at him concerning Lammaeg, but nothing he could quite put his finger on. "I know he wanted your position when I returned home as king, and I've felt his resentment since. But beyond filling his daughter's head with silly ideas about being a princess…" He shook his head. Lammaeg had not been the only one. There were several young maids of the court who had also been pushed by their parents to pursue his youngest son's attentions.

"Think, Thranduil!" Angalar exclaimed, drawing Thranduil's attention back to his friend. "Lammaeg was a confirmed bachelor." He smirked. "The old goat never showed any interest in marrying. He only ever cared for being your father's right hand man."

"Your point is?" Thranduil asked. "Many married after the losses we sustained. Is it so surprising that he also took a bride and quickly pursued rebuilding our numbers?"

Angalar ran a hand over his hair, trailing it down one braid. "Perhaps not. But did you not note that the young lady he wed was only newly come of age? Not the normal match for one of his years."

Thranduil grinned. "Nínim was pretty. Every buck, young and old, wanted her!"

Chuckling, Angalar shook his head. "It was not like Lammaeg though, that whirlwind courtship. He didn't even pursue a betrothal period."

"Not many did," Thranduil reminded him. "Not even you and Eitheliel…" He frowned, thinking back and remembering.

"Yes, he only pursued Nínim **_after_** Eitheliel and I announced we had wed. And he wasted no time in getting her with child."

"Is it so hard to believe that he wished to see our numbers increased?"

"No," Angalar answered, but there was something in his eyes. His friend understood something Thranduil had missed. But as always, instead of just blurting it out, Angalar would make Thranduil walk through it himself and reach his own conclusions.

So he thought about Lammaeg and his councilor's eldest son, who had been born almost exactly a year from the day he had wed Nínim. It was unusual. Most newly married couples wished several years to themselves before they brought children into the world. There had been much pressure on Eirien and Thranduil to produce an heir after his return. But he and his wife, only married a couple of years before Thranduil left for Dagorlad, had put it off, wishing time to heal from the many losses they had sustained. Lammaeg had been one of the biggest proponents of the king producing an heir, had almost demanded it; but in the end, Thranduil had done as he wished.

Try as he might, Thranduil could find nothing significant in his thoughts. Parts were unusual, but nothing stood out to him as something he should take note of. Nothing that gave him any insight into Lammaeg and the plotting that Angalar hinted at.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"No, so why don't you just tell me for once?"

"Lammaeg married quickly. Not as soon as you returned, and not as soon as you named me chief advisor, but as soon as **_I_** wed." Angalar folded his arms and gave him a look as if that said everything.

Thranduil threw up his hands in exasperation. "And?"

Angalar blew out a breath. "And he immediately had a child, a son."

Thranduil blinked at him. "And?"

"And he pushed you to do the same."

Thranduil shook his head. Perhaps the current stress in his family had addled his head, because he simply could not follow what Angalar meant him to see.

"Forget that for now," Angalar said. "Think instead of when you announced Eirien was carrying Arandur."

A smile tugged at his lips as Thranduil remembered that happy day. It had been at a Spring feast on a warm night when the stars had shone with a rare light upon the forest. "She was so beautiful when she was with child."

"You're not thinking."

"Well, if you would tell me what I'm supposed to be thinking about…"

"Lammaeg!" Angalar punched the arm of his chair for emphasis. "Not two days after you announced Eirien was carrying your child, Lammaeg announced to the court that Nínim was also with child. Two days… Exactly the amount of time needed for her to conceive…"

Thranduil frowned at this. "But surely they had been trying, even as we were, for both to conceive at the same time."

"Unless?"

"You're saying he purposely got his wife with child because Eirien was with child?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Perhaps the answer lies in his reaction to the fact you both had sons."

Now that paused him. It was true. Lammaeg had not seemed overjoyed to be gifted with another son a mere two days after Eirien had given birth to Arandur. But why?

"And think again about when Eirien carried Legolas, Thranduil. Again Lammaeg followed your example."

"But not right away."

"His second son had not married by the time Eirien conceived Legolas."

"I don't understand where you're going with this."

"You will. Think it through."

"Very well." Thranduil drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and thought. "Lammaeg announced Nínim was expecting another child shortly after Legolas was born." Angalar nodded. "And Ninglorwen was born a year later, and…"

"Lammaeg was beside himself with joy!"

"Because he wanted a daughter." Thranduil could see that, but did not see the significance that Angalar did. "What am I missing?"

"You'll figure it out if you think about it long enough."

Thranduil snorted, and thought. Lammaeg had wanted a daughter after Arandur had been born, but had instead been blessed with a son. But after Legolas was born, the old goat had been thrilled to receive Ninglorwen, and he had filled that girl's head with…

"That old goat has been planning to match our children all along!"

"Took you long enough."

Thranduil shot a glare at his friend. So sometimes he did not comprehend everything. It was why he had advisors. "You could have told me instead of making me work it all out."

"Not nearly as much fun." Angalar grinned at him.

He smiled reluctantly, but his humor faded after a moment as he considered everything in a new light. Lammaeg had planned his family in such a manner as to attempt to match their children in marriage, thus insinuating himself back into a certain closeness with the king, which he had lost after Oropher's death. And if he had gone to such lengths as to plan the births of his children to match those of the king, then was it much more of a stretch to think the councilor might still hope for such a match? It was obvious to all that Legolas and Cellinn had not completed their bond.

Narrowing his eyes at his oldest friend, he repeated his earlier question. "What do you know that I do not?"

Angalar swallowed and glanced away. "She has cornered him on several occasions, I believe in an attempt at impropriety. She knows the bond has not been completed. And if she can compromise him enough…"

Thranduil stood in one swift movement, his anger like fire in his veins. Such a thing would **_not_** be tolerated! Legolas needed Cellinn. The boy just did not realize how much yet.

"And there is one other thing…" Angalar said, standing up as well. When Thranduil lifted his brows, Angalar folded his arms across his chest. "He's hurting my little girl. It needs to stop before I do something we both regret."

"If anyone does anything, it will be me. Come, we will speak to him, and I will succeed in getting through to him no matter what it takes. I will **_not_** have **_that_** woman in **_my_** family!"

-o-

Legolas let out a long-suffering breath. It was not his choice to be here, walking in the garden with Ninglorwen. Istuion required him to walk for a certain amount of time each day, and he would rather do it outdoors, grateful to finally be free of the hated crutch, though he still limped. Unfortunately, he had run across the lady, and he had again been duty bound to offer his arm. His skin crawled where her fingers caressed his sleeve; and she walked too close to him. It was improper! After all he was…

He stopped that thought. He was **_not_** married. Not truly. Not that he did not want to be, it was just… Gritting his teeth, he increased his stride, trying to hurry, despite his limp, so that he could be done with the path and be free of the woman. Walking with Ninglorwen brought too much to mind that he would rather not consider, only increased his anger and ire at his… ** _wife_**.

But Ninglorwen did not match his pace, nor did she let go of his arm. She held him back, her grip on his arm making him nearly tremble with anger at females in general. Devious, conniving, deceitful, manipulating temptresses! All of them! Slowing his steps, he glanced back at her questioningly. After she had accosted him, and all but demanded he escort her, they had not spoken. Now, something in her expression brought his feet to a halt.

She moved closer to him; but her eyes were not on his. They were directed to the right of his shoulder, just off the path. A smug smile tugged at her lips; and he knew without turning exactly why. Cellinn stood somewhere behind him, watching him with Ninglorwen.

In that moment, his ire roused and his thoughts centered on his hurt and frustration; all Legolas wanted to do was to hurt her, to inflict pain as deep as his own. With calculated slowness, he lifted his hand to Ninglorwen's chin, tipping it upwards. Then he lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss. The lady's response was immediate. She threw herself into his arms, entangling her hands in his hair. He responded likewise, pulling her closer with an arm around her back, making as good a show of it as he could.

But as a leech attaches to the unsuspecting wanderer, so Ninglorwen wrapped herself likewise around him. The feel of her body against him was wrong. The smell of her hair was wrong. Her eagerness in his arms was wrong. Revulsion filled him. He did not want this! He might be unsure about his relationship with Cellinn, but one thing was certain: He did not want Ninglorwen, now or ever!

He tried to pull back, but having latched herself onto him, Ninglorwen was not about to release him. It took him several minutes to extract himself. Once he did, he took several steps back, breathing hard. Then he whirled to where he had assumed Cellinn stood. But there was no one there.

In the next instant something hit him — hard. His head snapped back. The crack against his jaw sounded loud in his head, but was followed by a strange silence as his vision tunneled to black and his legs gave way beneath him.

Then sound and feeling rushed back. A woman's shriek filled the garden. His chin throbbed with pain. A body sank beside him, fingers feeling for his face. He batted them away, bringing his own hand up to rub his sore jawbone. His vision cleared enough to see Ninglorwen kneeling next to him looking and sounding hysterical.

Then he noted a pair of legs just beyond her and followed them up to find his father's stern face glaring down at him. Thranduil was rubbing his fist, but not looking the least bit sorry for hitting him.

"I'm really glad you did that," another voice said, and Legolas then noticed Cellinn's father standing just beyond Thranduil. "If you had not, I would have."

Thranduil grinned at Angalar. "Then I would have had to return it. Better I did it myself."

Thranduil's attention returned to Legolas, and as his eyes met his father's cold green gaze, the blood left Legolas's face. He forgot to breathe for a moment, his heart rate doubled and a single expletive left his lips.

"Indeed," Thranduil said.

Ninglorwen continued trying to fuss over him, but Legolas hardly noticed her. His gaze was locked with that of his father. In those few moments, all his anger drained away, and he was left with a feeling of shame so deep, he had to look away. He swallowed hard, trying to bury the guilt rising up within him, threatening to choke him. What had he done?

Thranduil strode forward and bent to drag Ninglorwen to her feet. Legolas then witnessed something he had never thought to see in his life. His father shook the woman – hard. "Have you no sense at all?" Thranduil's voice was low and icy as his gaze bore into Ninglorwen's terrified face. She was pale and looked ready to faint. "Know you this, that my son's part in this will not be overlooked, but neither shall I excuse you your share of the blame."

As he spoke, the lady turned even paler. She trembled and cried, but she did not look away. There was no hiding when the king spoke in such a manner. Legolas knew that well, just as he knew his turn would come next. He dreaded it, feared it, and yet…part of him welcomed it. He deserved it, did he not? His stomach churned, and he clenched his fists, trying to block out the last ten minutes from his mind.

"I will not have scandal touch my house, not at your conniving hands," Thranduil continued. When Ninglorwen's mouth opened to speak, he silenced her with flashing eyes. "Oh, I am well aware you are not the only one at fault here, but I am also aware my idiot son would never have done such a foolish thing if you were not availing yourself by hanging onto his tunic!

"In the future, if I see you closer than a stone's throw to my son, I shall bring you before the entire court and address your numerous infractions to propriety, beginning with your pursuing one who is already wed!" With those final words, he released her. Ninglorwen, sobbing hysterically, nearly fell as she recoiled. Then catching her balance, she fled.

And then Legolas knew his time had come; and for the first time he wished he had died when the ground had opened beneath him. For surely death would be better than what he was now certain to endure.

-o-

Ninglorwen ran through the garden, her heart pounding from her exertion and her fear. Never had she been so afraid; and it was not even her fault! She had only tried to please her father, to do as he wished. Of course, the thought of marrying Legolas had not been an unpleasant one, and she had been more than willing to comply. Marrying him had been her goal – her father's goal for her – for as long as she could remember.

She had thought she had lost him when he married Cellinn. Indeed, she had given up and nearly accepted that she would never be the princess of the realm, and had turned her sights on others. But then her father had pointed out to her that the bond between the new couple had not been completed, and so it technically **_could_** be undone. And she had taken up the challenge of trying to lure Legolas away. Not that her efforts did much good. The prince had simply never shown any interest in anyone except Cellinn! But when she had heard of the rift between the couple, she had plotted and hoped that her chance had come. She was sure, in his anger, Legolas just might seek comfort with her.

She could see now that she was a fool. Neither she nor her father had considered the king in their planning. Thranduil would not tolerate her attempts to lure Legolas from his love. Besides, she knew he did not love her, had never even glanced her way. Even in his anger, he only had eyes for Cellinn.

A sob caught in her throat, and she stumbled and nearly fell; but she managed to right herself and kept running. But she was not watching where she was going. Tears blinded her: tears of anger – anger at herself and her father – and tears of despair ran down her cheeks. Again she stumbled and unable to stop, this time felt herself falling.

Strong arms caught her, pulling her up against a hard, warm chest. She gasped and glanced up – into ice blue eyes. "Easy," the stranger said, his eyes taking in her hysterical state.

She immediately felt self-conscious, but at the same time found some odd sense of comfort at being held, even by a stranger.

"Are you alright, my lady? Are you hurt?" His gaze traveled over her.

She blinked, recognizing him after a moment. It was Prince Arandur's friend. Dúrion, she thought his name was. But Ninglorwen found her tongue would not cooperate. "I – I –" Words failed her. She was still so shaken by what had happened, that she could only stand there, trembling.

"Lady Ninglorwen, isn't it?" he asked. She could see his concern in those beautiful blue eyes that held her gaze. She could not seem to look away.

She nodded numbly, still unable to speak. It was not like her at all, really. Part of her was horrified, and the other part reminded her she had been lucky to flee with her life. She had never seen the king so angry! And to have that anger directed at her…

She began to shake uncontrollably. Dúrion's brows drew together in a slight frown, his concern becoming more apparent. Then he seemed to make a sudden decision. Taking her firmly by one elbow, he led her off the path a few feet to a bench, and gently pushed her down onto it. She sank, grateful to no longer be standing when her limbs shook. He sat beside her, continuing to observe her with those curious but concerned blue eyes. She had never seen eyes so blue, blue as the sky on a bright summer day.

"There, now," he said, reaching out and patting her hand reassuringly. "You'll be alright."

This compassion, in the wake of her chastisement and fear, overwhelmed her. The tears began again; she could not stop them in the face of such kindness. She surely did not deserve it. Not after the fool she had made of herself. She turned her face and covered her mouth with one hand, unable to meet that beautiful gaze. Her shoulders shook with her sobs.

He moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him again. Firmly but gently, he directed her head to his shoulder. Then he simply held her and let her cry. He did not ask her what was wrong, did not say a word.

As her tears ran their course, she became more and more aware of the body pressed against her own. Thoughts of Legolas, the king, even her father all faded as she sat with her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her nose nearly touching his neck. He smelled nice.

He pressed something into her hand, and she glanced down, realizing it was a handkerchief. She used it to wipe away the traces of her tears and when she felt she could, she pulled back enough to look up at him. She gave him a wobbly smile.

"Feel better?" he asked.

She nodded, unsure what to say to him. Why had he been so kind? Did he not know who she was? Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she thought of all the things she had done and said, the way she had conducted herself in pursuit of the only man she had ever considered worthy of her. What must Dúrion think of her? What did the court think of her? Her friends?

She did not realize another tear had trickled over her lashes until his fingertips moved to brush it away. "Do you wish to talk about it?" His lips curved into a compelling smile. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

She dropped her eyes, her blush deepening, and shook her head. "Not now," she whispered.

"Well then, perhaps you would allow me to sit here and enjoy this lovely day with you? Or is there somewhere you were going? Can I escort you there?" His voice had deepened, and when she looked up, something in his gaze caused a strange tingling in her belly.

She dropped her eyes, feeling the blush creep all the way to the tips of her ears. "I would be delighted…Dúrion," she murmured, peeking back up at him from under her lashes.

He smiled.

**To Be Continued...**


	21. The Consequences

Legolas slowly stood with a hand up from his father. His jaw still throbbed and he felt an absolute fool. Though upright, he still could not meet either his father's or Angalar's eyes. He studied the ground near his feet, and every moment felt like an eternity. He wished someone would say something – yell at him or hit him again – anything but this silence.

He had nearly mustered the courage to look up when someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. His gaze yanked upwards colliding with the angry eyes of his brother. "It's a good thing Adar hit you!" Arandur growled, his voice as menacing as Legolas had ever heard it. "If I had done it, I don't think I would have been inclined to stop with one punch!"

"I think you should hit him too!"

Legolas nearly groaned. Had his **_whole_** family witnessed his actions? The next thing he knew, Minuialwen's very round form had forced itself before him. She glared up at him, her fists on her hips, making her belly even more pronounced in front of her.

"What were you thinking!" she shouted up at him, her eyes flashing furiously. "Were you thinking at all? Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Deep down he knew, but he did not want to face the betrayal he had committed. He would rather it stay hidden where he did not have to consider it, giving him the time to let his anger bury it so deep he would never have to truly confront the truth of it.

Minuialwen stepped closer, the large bulge of her belly pressing against him, pushing him back. A finger reached out and poked him hard in the chest. "How dare you!" She poked again, then pushed him – **_pushed him!_** – with the child she carried within her. He retreated under her onslaught: the pokes, the shoves. It was quite intimidating to be pushed around by a very irate pregnant woman!

"You are the biggest fool I have ever seen!" she continued. _Poke, poke, shove, shove._ "How could you betray her like that? _Poke, poke, poke, shove, shove, shove._ "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Thankfully, Arandur rescued him, laying a firm hand on Minuialwen's arm. "Love, you should not exert yourself so."

Minuialwen threw her hands up, glared at Arandur, spat at Legolas's feet and stormed off. Arandur cast him a disgusted look, one that repeated all Minuialwen had just accused him of. Then Arandur folded his arms and glared at him.

Unable to look his brother in the eye, Legolas glanced towards his father, only to find himself caught in Angalar's sweltering gaze. Cellinn's father stepped forward until his nose was nearly touching Legolas's own. In a voice so low, Legolas could barely hear him, he said, "If you ever hurt her like that again, I won't care whose son you are." A shiver ran down Legolas's spine at the coldness of Angalar's tone. The advisor spun on his heel, bowed to Thranduil, and marched off.

Legolas then found himself once again staring into his father's eyes, and what he saw there – anger, disappointment, offense – nearly drove him to his knees. All his life, no matter how he had failed in his duties, his responsibilities, he had never seen such a look on his father's face.

But Thranduil said nothing, just held his gaze. Legolas fought the urge to squirm under that stare, but somehow managed to hold his ground and remain still. The longer they stood there, the more uncomfortable Legolas felt, until finally, he blurted out, "Say something!"

"What else is there to say?" Thranduil asked, mirroring Arandur's stance by folding his arms across his chest.

"You should yell at me. Tell me what a fool I've been. Tell me I don't deserve her. Scream at me! Remind me how I failed her. How nothing she has done deserved such a betrayal!"

"True, but you're saying enough for the both of us, I think."

Legolas snapped his mouth closed and dropped his head, staring at the ground and frowning. Truly, what more could they say to him? He had betrayed Cellinn and thrown his betrayal in her face. The reality of what he had done lay plainly before him, and the guilt became nearly unbearable, overshadowed only by his shame.

He could hardly believe it of himself. No matter how angry, no matter what she had done to hurt him, Cellinn had not deserved such a betrayal. What had he done? Who had he become these past two weeks? None of this was like him! This consuming anger was fueled by a deep pain…and fear. Fear that she would never surrender herself completely, that she would forever hold him at arm's length.

His guilt and shame battled with his pain and anger. The more he thought about it – the more he looked at all he had done and said – the more he realized the hard road that lay ahead of him. He would have to make things right, somehow win Cellinn back, only….

Only he was not ready to let go of his anger and hurt. He did not want to admit what he had done – or acknowledge it to her. He was sinking in a vat of despair, both wanting to reconcile and at the same time wanting to remain angry.

When he looked up, hoping his father or Arandur would give him some reason to do what he knew was right, he found both of them had left. And he realized he would have to face the choices before him, make his own decisions….and live with the consequences.

-o-

Cellinn sank to the stone bench in the Queen's garden. Behind her, the rose bushes were just beginning to unfurl their new green leaves. She stared straight ahead, strangely unfeeling. She should be devastated, crushed; pain should be shooting through her, and yet, she felt only numb. The scene she had witnessed played over and over in her mind, yet she felt nothing…except remorse. Regret filled her, and hopelessness settled down on her.

She deserved it, after all, and had brought it all on herself. True, she had not understood her own fears, had not seen the lingering doubts. But she had brought this on her own head all the same. She had acted like a child, and now she was paying for her cruel treatment of the one she held most dear.

Someone sat down beside her. For just a moment, hope flared in her chest. Had he come? Was he here to beg her forgiveness? Cellinn nearly snorted at that thought. **_She_** was the one who needed to beg forgiveness from him. And she knew beyond doubt that he had not come, would not come. She had pushed him away, drove him into the arms of another.

She looked up into the eyes of the Queen, but remained silent. What was there to say? And then she knew – or rather, she had to ask.

"Can it be undone?"

The compassion in the queen's eyes was replaced by shock. "You would give up? He is an idiot, I know, but I did not take **_you_** for one."

"I would not seek it for myself," Cellinn explained, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "But if he wishes it, I would agree. The bond was never completed. We are not wed in truth." She glanced up at the queen. "Can it be undone?"

Eirien sighed and reached up to brush a curl from Cellinn's cheek. "He will not want it undone. He may think he does, but deep down he does not. He loves you."

But Cellinn was shaking her head, and the tears that had not come before now filled her eyes and overflowed. They preceded the pain that hit her with such force that she felt she would be ill. She brought her fist to her mouth and bit down hard on her knuckles as she slid from the bench to the grass. Dropping her head onto her arms on the stone bench, the sobs shook her. Eirien slipped down beside her and pulled her into an embrace and held her until the storm passed.

With a last hiccup, Cellinn wiped her face on the handkerchief she pulled from inside her sleeve. Then she pulled back only to discover that while she cried, someone else had come and now sat on the bench beside her. Once again, hope that Legolas had come to her rose up inside her; and once again she squashed it. He would not come. She knew that. He had come to her time and again, but not this time – this time, she would need to go to him and find a way to make him listen.

When she turned to look up, she found Minuialwen sitting there with such a fierce look on her face, Cellinn nearly recoiled. "Oh no," the princess declared. "You will not give up. I will not let you!"

"He hates me," Cellinn whispered.

"If he would but listen to you, hear you out with his heart, he would understand," Eirien said. "But he is too wrapped up in his hurt."

"So we will have to make sure he listens," Minuialwen added, a gleam entering her eyes as an evil smile turned her lips. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled with mirth. "Do you still want him?"

"I love him more than anything," Cellinn stated, knowing it was the truth. She wanted him, would fight for him, do **_anything_** to win him back.

Minuialwen looked to Eirien, and they shared a knowing glance. "Then you shall have to fight for him, and fight dirty."

Cellinn frowned. There would be no guarantee that he would not visit pain on her again, as she had so recently learned he was more than capable of. Never would she have thought he could be so cruel, or perhaps he truly preferred Ninglorwen?

_No_. She mentally shook herself, remembering too well that night when he had told her about his trip to the lake. He had meant what he said. And she remembered the day they had declared their love for one another. That day they had both acknowledged that they would hurt each other, but they had also agreed to always forgive each other.

Determination filled her. She would hold him to that promise. She had not meant to hurt him, and by all within her she would do her best not to ever do so again. But first she needed him to listen, to hear out why she had acted the way she had. And he needed to give her a chance to forgive him in kind. Knowing Legolas as she did, she knew he would even now be internally battling with himself. It would not be easy to get through his pride and his stubbornness to reach the man she knew he was deep down inside.

"How? How do I win him back?" she asked, ready to do anything.

Minuialwen grinned. "You seduce him."

-o-

Minuialwen nearly laughed at the expression on Cellinn's face. Her friend blinked several times, and then said, "Excuse me?"

Eirien leaned forward, her smile growing. "Oh yes! That is the best way to break through all his defenses."

"But—" Cellinn began, but Minuialwen did not let her finish.

"She really wouldn't have to do much," she said, speaking to Eirien and ignoring Cellinn's sputtering. "Just taking off her dress would do it." Cellinn squeaked in protest, but Minuialwen continued. "Oh, Cellinn, don't be such a prude! You have **_got_** to stop being afraid of getting in bed with your husband!"

"I'm not afraid!" Cellinn blurted, color rising in her cheeks. "Not anymore…but—"

"No buts," Eirien cut her off. "If you want to win him back, we will need to get the two of you together in a secluded place…"

"Their rooms," Minuialwen added. It was the best place, and as their fight had begun there, it really should end there.

Eirien nodded in agreement. "And we'll need to make sure Legolas can't leave."

"Can't Thranduil lock them in there?"

"Yes, he can. And he will." Eirien glanced at Cellinn, who alternated watching them, her fingers fidgeting with her handkerchief. "Getting the two of you in there won't be so difficult, but once you are there, it will be up to you to get through to him."

"I don't know what to do," Cellinn whispered, dropping her eyes.

Minuialwen's heart went out to her. For all she loved her spirited friend, the girl was too naïve. Odd really, such a contrast within her own personality – bold but shy, daring but fearful. No wonder Legolas loved her! Cellinn would keep him on his toes.

"But that is easy," she confided, taking one of Cellinn's hands in her own and squeezing it reassuringly. "You really won't have to do much. You just need to…"

And for the next several minutes, she gave suggestions with Eirien adding comments from time to time. They assured Cellinn that most likely, Legolas would respond and she would be able to follow his lead, but just in case, they prepared her for more drastic action. Minuialwen nearly laughed as Cellinn's eyes rounded in wonder as she listened to their 'if all else fails' advice.

Just as they finished, Thranduil and Arandur arrived. "What's this?" Arandur asked, squatting down beside Minuialwen and kissing her cheek. "A garden party without the blanket?"

"We've been plotting," Minuialwen told him, grinning at him.

He lifted a brow. "Have you now. Well, with **_you_** giving the advice, it's sure to work."

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed, reaching around to swat him on the backside.

"So what is the plan?" Thranduil asked, reaching down and taking his wife by the hand and helping her to her feet.

Arandur helped Minuialwen up, whispering teasing comments about her being unable to stand unaided. She smacked him again, on the other cheek. "Hey!" he complained, but his grin removed any doubt that he was offended by her playful slaps.

"We need to get Legolas and Cellinn alone together in their rooms and lock them in," Eirien explained. "Cellinn can handle it from there."

"Is she going to hurt him?" Arandur asked, eyeing them skeptically.

"No!" Cellinn gasped, her expression showing her shock at the suggestion.

"You should," Thranduil added, stepping forward and offering a hand to Cellinn. She took it and once she had gained her feet, he pulled her into a hug. "He deserves it."

"I just want my husband back," Cellinn murmured, though Minuialwen knew that what had taken place between Legolas and Ninglorwen had hurt Cellinn deeply. She could walk away from him after what he had done, and few would think badly of her for it. But Cellinn loved him. Anyone who looked at her could see it in her eyes, and Legolas loved her as well. Minuialwen could see the two just needed to stop acting like idiots and to talk…

A sudden pain took her by surprise, and Minuialwen gasped, her hand dropping low on her belly. "Oh dear."

"Minuialwen!" Several of them cried out at once, but it was her husband she turned to, leaning her head against his chest. His arms surrounded her as he murmured into her hair. "Easy, remember what Istuion said. Breathe slowly. There."

And then as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone. She lifted her head and met Arandur's concerned eyes. "I think we should go see Istuion," she whispered.

"Is it time?" Eirien asked, stepping over and rubbing Minuialwen's back.

"I don't know," she said. She felt Cellinn's worried gaze and turned to look at her. "I'll be fine."

"I'll come with you," Cellinn said, stepping away from Thranduil, but Minuialwen shook her head and waved her back.

"No, you have other things to do. Arandur will send word. Besides, it is very likely a false alarm."

"Probably," Eirien agreed. "Babies are fickle. They never come when you think they are going to. They prefer to surprise you in the middle of the night." She placed a hand on Minuialwen's middle and smiled. "He's just trying to get some attention. We'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"I'm going to be a grandfather."

All of them turned to look at the speaker of those words, and Minuialwen suddenly noticed Thranduil had turned pale. His wild green eyes were fastened on her middle, and he looked as if he might collapse.

Eirien shook her head and walked to him, wrapping her arms around him. "Yes, dear, you are going to be a grandfather. You've known this for a year now."

"But it's real now," he whispered, a look of shock on his face, as if he only just realized that what Minuialwen carried within her was in fact a child – his son's child.

Minuialwen grinned at him. "You'll spoil him rotten!" she declared, then gripped Arandur's hand behind her as another pain began.

"Indeed," Eirien said, pulling back to look up at her stricken husband. "But there is time for that later. For now, we have a plan to put into motion!" She gestured for Cellinn to follow them and shooed Minuialwen and Arandur off towards their rooms; a passing servant was sent to fetch Istuion there.

As they walked, Minuialwen did what she could to pretend all was fine, but another pain had come and she squeezed Arandur's hand again.

"Breathe," he whispered, his fingers circling her lower back, comforting her as the reality of what was going to happen made itself known with a gush as her water broke.

They both looked down at her wet skirts and then Arandur hoisted her into his arms. "You breathe," he told her, a rather panicked look coming over his features, "I'll walk!"

She laughed and kissed his cheek. He was going to be a wonderful father.

**To Be Continued….**

* * *


	22. Last Attempt To Reach His Heart

Just how Thranduil convinced Legolas to return to their rooms, Cellinn was unsure. One thing was certain, however; Legolas had not expected her to be there. As the door closed behind him, he looked up, saw her standing in the doorway to their bedchamber; and then he turned around and tried to leave again. But the door would not open for him. Thranduil had wasted no time changing the words that controlled the locking of the door.

He tried to pull it open several times, but the door did not recognize him. He murmured the password that controlled the lock and tugged on it again. When it still failed to open, he slammed his hand against it and cursed.

Cellinn watched him, her uncertainty growing with each attempt Legolas made to escape her presence. How could she possibly seduce him when so much lay between them? They needed to talk, not make love! But when Legolas dropped his forehead on the door with a groan, she changed her mind. Perhaps seduction _**would**_ be the key to that long-needed conversation. At least, it might if she could get him to look at her.

"Legolas?"

Silence.

"Legolas, please," she pleaded, blinking back tears. Desperate to do whatever she could to make things right between them, her fingers slipped down to untie her robe – the only thing she wore. As the sash fell and her robe gaped slightly open, exposing small glimpses of her body, she gulped and took a shaky breath. It was not easy to make herself so vulnerable to him, but she forced herself to do it.

"Look at me."

She blinked in astonishment as soon as the words left her mouth. Had that husky voice been hers? She took a couple of steps towards him. "Please look at me," she repeated, her voice little more than a whisper, but she knew he could hear her. With her eyes fixed on his slumped form, she caught the slight tilt of his head.

Then he straightened, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as he turned.

His face was blank of expression, but she saw the slightest flicker of surprise in his eyes when he beheld her — the quick glance down her body and back up. She lowered her eyes. "Thank you."

For several moments, they just stood there. Cellinn could hear her heart beating rapidly and wondered if Legolas could hear it as well. Slowly, mustering all her courage, she lifted just her eyes, keeping her chin tilted down in the look he had once said he loved so much. Then she took a step forward, feeling the robe part even more.

The expressionless mask of his face faded; his eyes were on her, roaming over her hungrily. Yet a lingering wariness remained. He swallowed hard, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. When their gazes collided, for a brief moment, she caught a glimpse of his surprise, his pain and, yes, a remaining flash of anger. Then it was gone, the wariness becoming more prevalent as he stepped back, retreating from her.

"What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.

She pushed her churning emotions to the back of her mind and forced herself to act the part. A slow smile turned her lips as she stepped forward again. "I thought we could talk," she murmured, dipping her eyes to run over his body in a caress before again looking him the eye. "We need to talk."

Her smile faded as all her hurt and uncertainty roiled inside her. She took another shuddering breath, pleading with her eyes for him to listen, to give her a chance. He shook his head slightly and took another step back, bumping into the door. He pressed his back against it, his hand reaching back to give the handle another useless tug.

He was visibly shaken, and she was surprised to see his look of panic. Could she manage to break through his defenses and find the man she had fallen in love with? She had to try! Taking another step forward, the robe slipped open to bare a large sliver of her flesh from sternum to toes. She had never felt so exposed in her life, but she pressed on, taking another step, and another. She was fighting for their love and if that meant she had to open herself up to the possibility of being hurt even more, she had to take the risk.

Another step and she was standing in front of him. His eyes slowly raked down, lingered on the exposed curve of her breasts, then drifted down over her belly and lower. He blinked, and she could see all the emotion swirling in his eyes. But then he glanced back up at her face, and the guarded look returned.

"I love you," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

With a slight shrug, the robe slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, exposing all of her to his eyes.

His brows pulled together as multiple emotions crossed over his face: wonder, desire, longing, and regret. He blinked several times, and then to her surprise, he turned his back to her and leaned his head against the door again. A shudder ran through him, and Cellinn could just stand there, her heart breaking. She had offered him everything — made herself as vulnerable as she knew how. She had no other course to take. If Legolas rejected her here and now, she knew she would be broken beyond hope of recovery.

She had no idea what to do. She did not feel comfortable implementing what Minuialwen had told her — doubted he would even allow her to remove any of his clothing, let alone touch him _**there**_ — not now, not with him responding like this. Her heart nudged her to take him in her arms, to touch him as a friend and make one last attempt to reach his heart.

So she pressed up against his back, wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I love you. I want you to be my husband in truth. I want everything to be right between us again. Please, Galas, let me explain?"

When he did not say anything, she continued, pouring out her heart to him. "I understand now why I acted as I did. My mother told me I had nothing to fear, but she never explained _**why**_." She paused, thinking of how best to explain all that she had discovered about herself and how her parent's marriage had affected her ideas of bonding. "All my life I've watched her —the wife of the King's Chief Advisor. Everything she does is wrapped up in that — not even I escaped it."

Cellinn nuzzled her face against his shoulder, relishing the feel of him in her arms. How she had missed him, his smell, his warmth. She continued, "Every aspect of her life has to be just so because of her husband's position. Not that he demanded it of her — it is just her way. She even made a point of controlling me as much as my father would allow. I love my mother, but I was afraid of becoming like her, Lass."

He released a shuddering breath under her ear, and she held him tighter. "I love you so much, and I _**do**_ want to be your wife; but the thought of completing the bond, of not understanding what that really meant… Knowing once it was done meant there was no going back…" She took a deep breath and shivered. It was cool in the rooms, and her bare flesh dimpled with chill bumps.

"It wasn't you I was afraid of, or of the act of joining. Oh, the thought makes me nervous! But not fearful. It's what happens _**after**_ that I have feared. I won't be just Cellinn anymore, but Princess Cellinn. And I'm not sure what that means exactly."

Her brow furrowed as she considered it. She knew now that she could still be herself, but she struggled with how to remain herself while also being the princess. "I thought it meant I had to become just like my mother — becoming someone else entirely — but I am _**not**_ my mother!" A small laugh escaped her. "Your father disabused me of that notion! And your mother assures me I know all that I need in order to fulfill my duty to the title, but…"

She sighed, nuzzling her face against his tunic again as she tried to put her fears into words. This was harder than she had thought it would be. "My mother is a lot different than I am, and her relationship with my father much different than our own. She is overly concerned with appearances, with making sure everything is proper — but I am my father's daughter.

"I understand there will be times when I must put duty first, times I must quell my natural tendency to speak first and think later. I don't want to lose myself, to become someone other than I am; and I know now that I don't have to. I don't have to become my mother — I can be me, and…and I'm ready to be your wife now."

For a time there was no sound. Then Legolas's breathing hitched and his shoulders began to shake. He trembled beneath her, his breaths raspy. "I don't deserve you," he croaked in a hoarse and broken voice.

And then she knew — he had listened, understood her. And now… Now they would have to deal with what he had done. She closed her eyes tightly and nuzzled her face against his back once more, trying to block out the mental image of Ninglorwen in his arms.

"I love you," she repeated. Yes, what he had done had hurt her, had pierced her heart unlike anything else; but they would get past it. "I don't deserve you either, so we make a good pair." She smiled against his back when he snorted; then she sobered and went to the heart of the matter. "I'm not going to say what you did didn't hurt me." Her voice broke and she took a shaky breath. "I – I don't ever want to feel such pain again."

She felt him stiffen in her arms, but she rubbed his abdomen soothingly. "Do you remember what we promised that day we admitted our love for each other?" She waited, feeling his body relax a bit.

He let out a long shaky sigh. "We promised we would always forgive when we inevitably hurt each other."

"I forgive you," she whispered. "Can you forgive me?"

For a brief moment, he was very still. Then he turned in her arms, taking her face in both his hands. His cheeks were streaked with tears and more splashed down over his lashes as she gazed up at him.

"I love you." His voice washed over her, and she closed her eyes and smiled.

"I know."

His thumbs brushed her cheeks. "I hated every second of that scene in the garden…with _**her**_."

She knew exactly what he meant. "I know." She opened her eyes and saw the surprise on his face. She gave him a small, sheepish smile. "I stayed long enough to watch you try to detach yourself from her."

He let out a sharp breath, chuckling as he pulled her into his arms. "Is that why you can forgive me so easily?" he asked.

"It's not easy, but yes, knowing you were so quick to want to be away from her helped." She closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him. "Please do not hurt me like that again?"

"Oh love." He dipped his head and buried his face in her hair, his hands caressing her bare back. "I swear I'll never do anything so foolish again."

"Good, because if you do, I have your father's permission to hurt you."

He snorted. "It wasn't enough that _**he**_ hit me?"

Cellinn gasped and pulled back, her eyes searching his face to determine if it were true. Then she saw the bruise on his jaw. She lifted her hand and lightly caressed the darkened skin. He winced. "He hit you?" she whispered, horrified.

"I deserved it."

"Oh Lass!" She reached up and placed the merest touch of her lips on the bruise. Then she trailed her lips from it to just below his ear. "Does it hurt?" she murmured, smiling as his breath hitched.

"Linn, you have far too few clothes on to be doing that?"

"Do I? And here I thought you had on far too many."

**To Be Continued...**


	23. Consummation

**Warning: The following contains sexual content of a mature nature.**

_"Linn, you have far too few clothes on to be doing that?"_

_"Do I? And here I thought you had on far too many."_

**Consummation**

Legolas's pulse raced as Cellinn's fingers reached for the fastenings of his tunic and deftly began to undo them. He helped her pull the fabric over his head, then sucked in a breath as her fingers traced from his collarbone, down the center of his chest, over the plane of his stomach and stopping just above the waist of his leggings. Could anything feel better than her fingers on his skin?

He raked his gaze over her unclad form, marveling at her lovely shape revealed to him. He had been aroused as soon as he had seen her in that thin robe; but when she had untied it and let it fall open… Only the swirling storm of emotion had kept him from reaching out for her then and there. It seemed not to matter how much distance lay between them, he would always want her.

She glanced up at him as her fingers reached for the lacings. ' _Can this truly be happening?'_ he wondered. Not an hour ago, he had been in such turmoil, hating himself for what he had done, and yet still angry at her for her rejection. How foolish of him to push her away — to not give her a chance to explain. He loved her, would always love her, no matter what she did. Now that she had explained, he understood only too well why she had acted as she did; and with that no longer stopping them, he could finally make her his.

He took her fingers in his hands, stilled her movements and prevented her from loosening the ties. When she frowned and opened her mouth to protest, he placed a finger over her lips. "Hush."

"Lass?"

He could see the surprise in her eyes, as well as the heated desire. She wanted him as well. Legolas smiled and instead of answering her, stooped to pick up her robe. When he straightened, he wrapped it around her, hiding her figure from his eyes. Not that he did not wish to look — he just wanted the opportunity to unwrap her himself.

At her frown of confusion, he grinned and swept her up into his arms, marching quickly to their bed and depositing her upon it. As she sat there blinking up at him, his eyes swept over her, lovingly tracing each curve with his gaze.

She looked up at him curiously with a hesitant smile. He reached down and ran a fingertip across her cheek and over her bottom lip. Then he bent down, placing one hand on either side of her legs, and kissed her, soft and gentle at first, then becoming bolder. She matched him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He placed one knee on the bed, and pushed forward, bringing his body over hers as he lowered her back onto the bed.

Running the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, he felt her sigh and open for him. He swept his tongue into her mouth, tangled it with hers, and groaned as heat rushed through his veins. Already hard, he tightened further, his leggings getting increasingly uncomfortable. He needed her — needed to become one with her in both body and spirit. Pressing down on her, he ground himself against her hip, the friction nearly undoing him.

Her gasp reminded him that he could not selfishly satisfy himself. He could not lose himself in his own desires, but needed to see to Cellinn's as well. Dragging his lips from hers and trailing them down her throat, he wondered how he would ever last that long. He felt as if a single touch from her would unhinge him.

Settling on his side next to her, he let his hands roam over her arm, his fingers lightly brushing against the curve of her breast. Her eyes were closed and her breath hitched between her parted lips. He lowered his head to kiss her again, losing himself in her taste, the feel of her beside him, her mouth on his, their tongues mating. He needed more, so much more.

He dragged himself from her with a groan. His pants had become painfully tight. Falling back onto the pillows, he reached down to untie his lacings, but her fingers were instantly there, doing it for him. _'By_ _the_ _stars!_ He would never last if she continued to touch him!

But the feel of her beside him, the brush of her fingers on his length through the fabric felt so good… He closed his eyes and just breathed as the material loosened and the cool air caressed him.

"Oh!"

Her exclamation gave him a start and his eyes snapped open. She knelt beside him, the silk of her robe gaping and revealing the curve of one breast to his gaze. Looking up, he found her eyes glued to his exposed groin. He glanced down and grinned. Cellinn had never seen him in this state before.

Legolas lifted his hips and shimmied out of his leggings, tossing them with one foot onto the floor. Then he watched her expression as she gazed at him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. "Oh," she repeated.

Everywhere her eyes touched him, heat tingled over his skin. By the stars above, if she kept looking at him like that… His eyes widened as she reached out and drew a single fingertip down his length. His hips jerked, and he met her startled gaze, feeling quite shocked himself. He had known this would feel wonderful, but…

She touched him again. His eyes fluttered closed as the sensations grew more pleasurable. His skin grew warm with his excitement, and he groaned.

He felt her draw back. "Am I hurting you?" she asked in an uncertain tone.

"No," he breathed, swallowing hard. "Don't stop." He asked it before he considered the consequences. Her fingers returned to explore him, her fingers wrapping slowly around him, the feel of her palm stroking down, then back up, her thumb running over the tip…

Whether his inexperience with the touch of another, the emotions of the last few hours or simply the fact he had waited for her for so long — the sensations overwhelmed him. He shattered, crying out as his body jerked in her hand, his seed spilling over his belly as pleasure beyond anything he had ever felt at his own hand took him.

When he came back to himself, he was breathing hard. Never had he felt so relaxed, so free. He opened his eyes, and found Cellinn biting her lip and staring down at him with a perplexed expression. She met his gaze, her cheeks flushed, making her look even more beautiful. "Was that supposed to happen?" she asked in a small voice.

One corner of his lips drew up and a chuckle shook him. "Well… yes and no." At her look of confusion, he explained. "Yes, it was supposed to happen, just not yet." He grinned sheepishly at her, feeling his face grow warm.

Her brows drew together as she reached for something under her pillow. "Well now I understand why Minuialwen told me to keep a towel handy."

He snorted as she wiped away the mess. "I would not have thought of that."

She gave him a little smile and folded the small towel, placing it back under the pillow. "Is that all then?" She gazed down at her knees, her fingers nervously toying with the edge of her robe. She actually looked disappointed.

Raising himself up onto his elbows, he watched her for a moment. She was so beautiful. Her blue eyes kept glancing at him timidly then darting back to her lap. "It's alright, love."

"But…" Her teeth nipped at her lower lip.

Sitting up with the pillows propped behind him, he drew her across his lap. She buried her face in his neck. "It's alright," he reassured her. "We don't have to stop now."

"We don't?"

He shook his head. "No. In fact, it's probably better this happened. Now I can focus on you and not worry about that happening too soon."

"But…" Her arm tightened about his neck. "But it…"

"It what?" he asked, confused.

Cellinn pulled back, her expression confounded. Then she looked pointedly down at his limp flesh between them. "But it's not hard anymore."

Legolas laughed. All the tension of the past two weeks — all the emotions that had kept him miserable — had all been released, and it felt good to laugh. He ignored her pout and the spread of a blush across her cheeks and gathered her against him, continuing to chuckle. "Trust me, once I get that robe off you again, that won't be a problem."

She peeked up at him through her hair. "It won't?"

He shook his head. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he lowered his head and kissed her gently, his lips a soft caress against hers. His fingers slid over her jaw, down her neck and then glided up, lightly running over the soft skin behind her ear. She shivered.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then trailed his lips slowly across her cheek to her ear, nibbling at her earlobe, eliciting a gasp from her. Oh, this was fun! Legolas smiled against her, letting his fingers delve between their bodies for the sash of her robe. He untied it, freeing it to gape open to his gaze and wandering fingers.

He felt her trembling, but knew she was only nervous, no longer afraid. Not as she had been. He could feel her eagerness, her excitement. It felt as if he were partially connected to her already. Perhaps he was; the thought awed him, as he began to realize what being bound to her would mean.

Legolas drew back, gazing down at the opening of the robe. She blushed more deeply, dipping her head and hiding her face in her long hair. He chuckled, brushed the dark curtain away and kissed her breathless. When he broke away to catch his own breath, he drew one of her knees over him so that she straddled his legs. Then he pushed the robe off her shoulders, down her arms and pulled it away, exposing her completely to his fingers and gaze. The robe slid from the bed to the floor.

His eyes skimmed over her, following every dimple, every curve. He reached and traced a finger down the valley between her breasts to her navel. "You're so beautiful." He smiled. "My beautiful wife."

She sucked in a breath and then wrapped her arms around him. He sat up and buried his face in her neck, relishing the feel of her fingers in his hair and along his shoulders. He wanted to touch and taste her everywhere. When her lips touched his shoulder, he realized she felt the same.

The heat of her intimate parts pressed against him, and his sated flesh ignited with renewed desire. He lifted her so she knelt over him and lowered his head to suckle one breast. Cellinn gasped then moaned as he flicked her nipple with his tongue, then drew it between his lips. He cupped her other breast in his hand, feeling the weight of it, massaging and listening to her intake of breath as he did.

"Lass," she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, holding him to her. He could not agree more. This was simply divine. Nothing could compare with the feel of her in his arms, in his mouth. He released her only to lavish attention on her other breast, burying his face against her as his hands slipped around and down to cup her bottom, pulling her more tightly into his hardness.

He lifted his head, meeting her heated gaze. "I need you," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers.

Her eyes widened, and he could see the uncertainty rise in her again. ' _Slow down,'_ he told himself. But he did not wish to — he wanted to fill her with himself and find that explosion that had sent his senses scattering on the winds – to feel such freedom within her…

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She would not be ready yet, not according to what Arandur had told him. He needed to touch her more, prepare her for him. He gulped and looked down at the unfamiliar part of her, hidden from his eyes by a sprinkling of curly hair.

Lifting her, he guided her to lie beside him on her back. She boldly held his gaze, but he could see how nervous she was, could hear the pounding of her heart. "It's alright," he told her as he settled on his side next to her and kissed her.

He let his hands roam over her, remembering to touch all her skin, not just her breasts, although they were so beautiful as to take his breath away! He lowered his head to suckle her again, but this time, he let his hands wander over her abdomen and lower. Her breath hitched as his fingers gently delved into the most intimate parts of her, and her knees parted, giving him greater access.

Uncertain himself now, he pulled back and watched her face as he caressed her, noting when she frowned and bit her lip, as opposed to when her lips parted and she sucked in a breath. By watching her expressions, he learned how to touch her.

Then he slipped one finger inside her. She stiffened, and he waited, letting her grow accustomed to the feel. When she relaxed, he added another, moving them in and out, feeling her tightness surrounding him. He glanced down at himself, wondering how he could ever fit in such a place without extreme pain on her behalf.

Cellinn's hand reached for his, drawing it back up to her center. He smiled. She might be uncertain, but she knew what she liked; and though her cheeks flushed pink, her lips tilted in a small smile as he resumed touching her. He was surprised when her hands tightened into fists on the bedding, then he realized her body had tensed. Remembering his release earlier, he realized she approached her own. He hesitated, then removed his hand from her. She released a sound of frustration and blinked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Smiling reassuringly, he lifted himself over her, settling himself between her thighs, brushing their intimate parts together. He nearly groaned.

"Oh." She looked up at him, wide-eyed, nervousness replacing the heat from only minutes before.

"You say that a lot." He smiled down at her, lowering himself so his weight rested on his forearms.

"Do I?" She quivered beneath him.

The feel of her under him ignited something deep inside him, driving him to complete the act. He fought the urge to simply impale himself, and forced himself to move slowly. "Relax," he murmured, lowering his head to kiss her as he shifted, bringing the tip of him to rest against the entrance to her body. Her arms tightened around him, and he nuzzled his face against her cheek, breathing hard in his efforts to restrain himself.

Then he began to press forward, slowly entering her. Slick warmth surrounded the tip of him; he pressed further into the tightness, feeling her begin to stiffen beneath him. "Shhh," he assured her again, kissing her cheek, her ear, her hair as he waited for her to calm. She trembled, but after a moment, he felt her stiffness subside.

Biting his lip, Legolas took advantage of her relaxed state. He hated to hurt her, but it would be better to do it quickly. He pushed steadily into her without stopping, hearing her cry out as he breeched her maidenhead. He was overwhelmed by the tight heat surrounding him, encasing him; and he felt something else, some distant song calling to his soul.

-o-

Cellinn bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and tightened her grip around him. Her breaths came hard and fast. She fought to relax against the sudden pain. It was not unbearable, more of a sharp sting, a stretching, but the feeling of Legolas inside her was different and strange — not entirely unpleasant, but not comfortable either. He held perfectly still, and slowly, her body adjusted, and the pain subsided to a dull ache. She took a shuddering breath, feeling all of him pressing against her. Despite the discomfort, it felt right. This was exactly where she belonged.

She realized he was trembling above her. Easing her grip around him, she caressed his shoulders, back and lower. He felt so good. And now he was hers. She smiled.

Then he began to move, slowly at first, withdrawing just a bit and then pushing back. The motion caused her brow to furrow at the new sensations, and for a moment, she thought she heard a breath of song.

He withdrew from her further, almost completely and then plunged back into her as far as he could go, groaning as he did so. Cellinn gasped as he rubbed across that one spot he had touched earlier. It was as if fire shot through her. All the feeling from earlier returned as he continued pulling back and pressing forward in a slow rhythm that caused her body to thrum with excitement. Something was going to happen — she had no idea what, but she welcomed it, holding him and pressing kisses to any part of him she could reach.

Legolas was breathing heavily now, his arms quivering as he controlled his motions. She opened her eyes and looked up into his face; it was drawn tight with concentration, his eyes closed. "Go faster," she breathed, pushing up to lay several kisses along his throat. His head fell back giving her greater access and she laved his pulse with her tongue then drew the skin into her mouth, sucking lightly. He thrust into her more quickly, hitting that spot…

Within her, she could now hear the resonance of the song again. She gasped as his body rocked above her. The pleasure built within her, driving her towards something wonderful. He moved faster, moaning and breathing hard. It was beautiful, she thought. This joining of bodies, of two hearts. Never had she dreamed it would feel like this.

Moving counter to him, Cellinn met his thrusts, and suddenly, it was as if her world exploded. She broke apart into a million pieces and found herself scattered on the wind, floating free as her body pulsed around him in a blazing inferno. The song grew in crescendo, becoming clearer, and she realized it was the call of his soul to hers. Then she heard Legolas cry out as he stiffened.

All the tiny pieces of her soul were swept up with the shattered pieces of his, entwining and dancing together on a breeze. She laughed and heard him laugh with her, felt him caress her very spirit. It was no longer the two of them; they were one.

**To Be Continued…**


	24. Forgiveness

The rapturous feeling continued for several moments, and then Cellinn felt herself congealing once more. As the pieces of her soul reconnected, she realized it was no longer just her, but him as well. They formed back together, separate and yet connected, infinitesimal shards of each of them imbedded in the other.

And the song filled her mind, her heart. She would know him anywhere now, knew the imprint of him in the Song of Arda. She smiled as she sank back into awareness of her body, feeling his weight collapsed against her. "Oh my," she breathed.

He chuckled…but there was no sound; and yet she could hear it as plain as his labored breathing. _By the stars, I love you…_ The words sounded clearly in her mind, but she could also **_feel_** his love for her. She gripped him tighter. _There will never be enough words to tell you how much…_

"You don't have to," she whispered. "I can feel it — feel you." She felt him smile against her throat, where his face was buried against her.

They lay like that for several moments, then Legolas began to stir. Cellinn clung to him. "Don't leave!" she cried out, fearing the loss of this new connection with him. She did not think she could bear it if that faded away to what they had known before.

"It's alright," he murmured. He slowly slid off her and rolled to her side, his arms wrapping around her. He held her for several minutes, and she relished the feel of him against her. Nothing had changed, she could still feel him, still hear a faint echo of his soul's song, even though they were not two bodies once more. His exhaustion rolled over her like a storm cloud, causing her to blink and hold back a yawn. Her poor husband! He was so tired!

Turning in his arms, she just looked at him. His eyes were closed; a small crooked smile tipped one side of his mouth upwards. She ran her fingers down the side of his face in a caress. He blinked sleepily at her. She smiled. "You look so tired."

"I am." His smile grew. "I've never felt so…so…" He yawned.

"Mmmhmm." She agreed, snuggling closer. She had never felt this way before either. "Sleep," she murmured, her fingers reaching up to caress his face again. She winced as her body throbbed from their lovemaking. As soon as he fell asleep she would make use of the steaming water that had been brought before Legolas returned to their rooms.

"NO!"

Cellinn jumped as he sat up abruptly in their bed, shaking his head slightly. "Legolas?" She reached up, trying to draw him back down.

"Can't sleep yet," he mumbled, blinking sleepily.

He met her gaze, and as their eyes collided, she gasped even as he started in surprise. For the first time they met each other's gaze as a bonded pair. It was written plainly in his eyes — _this one is wed._ She grinned at him.

One corner of his mouth drew up, his dimple deepening as he smiled at her. "I like that look on you," he said. The smile faded into something more serious, a look of possessiveness. "Now all will know you're mine."

"As you're mine," she agreed, savoring that subtle message proclaiming to all that he was taken. "Now lay down," she commanded, patting the bed beside her. "You need to sleep!"

"Can't sleep yet," he murmured, rising from the bed. He glanced down at her, running his eyes over her, then grimaced when he focused on her thighs. She looked down and saw the traces of blood. "I hurt you," he whispered, his eyes holding a look of such remorse, her heart twisted. Or perhaps, she was feeling the echo of his heart twisting. It was still difficult to sort out the new sensations created by their bond.

She sat up, flinching as her inner muscles cramped. "I'm alright, Lass."

But he was moving to the stand holding the pitcher and pouring some of the water into the bowl and wetting a cloth in it. He came back and gently eased her back down and began to wash her, easing her knees apart to reach all the sore places. She blushed, feeling embarrassed to be so open to his gaze, but the warmth felt so nice. He crossed the room and rinsed the cloth, bringing it back and laying it against her. She sighed, feeling the ache wane.

Easing the top blanket from under her, he rejoined her on the bed and covered them with it, snuggling her against his chest. His fingers lightly caressed up and down her arm as he pressed soft kisses against her temple. She sighed. She was really going to enjoy being married to him if he was going to be **_this_** attentive.

Glancing up at him with a small smile, she found him watching her. "Sleep," she told him, tracing a small circle on his chest.

He shook his head. "You first." Then he yawned, and she laughed.

"I'm not tired. It's the middle of the day," she reminded him. He yawned again. Only then did she notice the dark circles under his eyes. He had probably not slept well since their fight! "Sleep, Legolas. I'm perfectly content to lie here with you as you do."

"No," he murmured, but he was losing the battle. "Have to…" Whatever he was going to say was lost when his eyes unfocused and he drifted into dreams.

Cellinn shook her head. He was so adorable when he was asleep. She bent and pressed a kiss to his chest and then laid her head down on his shoulder, reliving all the events of the past hour and marveling over the closeness she now felt with him. Her eyes unfocused, and unaware, she also slipped to sleep.

-o-

Legolas blinked, his eyes slowly refocusing. He felt very refreshed. He started to stretch, then felt the warm body against him and glanced down with a smile. Even now he could feel her song thrumming in his heart.

He shifted slightly so he could see her more clearly and ran a hand over her tangled hair. _So beautiful. My beautiful wife._ She smiled, and he realized she could hear his thoughts. She blinked and stretched, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. _And you said you weren't tired._

Cellinn lifted a brow. _More tired than I thought I was._ "I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said.

"We both needed it." He traced her face with his gaze, pleased to see that the dark circles that had been under her eyes earlier had faded; she looked refreshed.

"You look better," she told him, reaching up and tracing a finger from his brow to the corner of his mouth.

He smiled. "I feel better…much better." He bent his head and tried to kiss her, but she was too far down on his chest. She laughed and pushed up on her elbows so he could reach her. He kissed her soundly, only drawing back when he needed to catch his breath.

_I love it when you kiss me like that._

He grinned and kissed her again, relishing the sound of her melody as it washed over his soul. It seemed to increase in volume whenever they touched in such an intimate manner, just like a flute…

Breaking the kiss, Legolas pulled back from her, distress filling him. He did not want to tell her, but he had no choice — even though the news would hurt her and badly. But she needed to know all he had done.

"Legolas?" She asked, concern filling her eyes. "What's wrong?" Her voice trembled; her breathing hitched.

He closed his eyes. "I have a confession to make." He drew in a deep breath. "I don't want to tell you, but…"

"You can tell me anything."

He opened his eyes and met her concerned blue eyes. "I know, but this will hurt you more, and I don't want to cause you pain." He swallowed. "I hate causing you pain," he whispered, pulling her closer against him and burying his face in her hair. How could he tell her?

"You can tell me anything," Cellinn repeated, sitting up and looking down at him. The blanket fell from around her shoulders to her waist, revealing her body to him. He immediately focused on her breasts then snapped his eyes closed and reached to pull it back around her. He heard her half-laugh. She bent over him, placing a kiss on his forehead and then settled her back against the pillows beside him, close but not touching, the blanket tucked up under her arms. "Tell me."

He sat up beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. He stared at the hearth, a heaviness settling in his chest. There was no easy way to tell her what he had done — or why he had done it. "I did something…something I regret greatly. I was so angry, and I couldn't bear any reminder of…" He gulped, blinking back the sudden moisture in his eyes. "I am a fool."

She reached for his hand and held it tightly. "Tell me."

Squeezing his eyes closed, he blurted out, "I burned it. The flute you gave me." His voice broke and bile rose up in his throat. For some reason that act seemed more repulsive to him than his kissing Ninglorwen — both had been done to cause hurt, but destroying something that had been a symbol to him of their love…the very instrument on which he had composed her song? "I'm sorry," he whispered.

To his surprise, Cellinn reached out and drew him to her, pulling his head to her shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath as her fingers ran through his hair. "It's alright. I already knew about the flute."

He froze. _She knew?_ He swallowed hard. "How," he asked hoarsely.

"I found it."

Her answer broke his heart. He sat up and gathered her to him, holding her tightly. "Oh, Linnaew. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I had not! I wish…"

"Hush." Her fingers against his lips stilled his words. "I found it before it was completely destroyed." She released a sigh. "I don't know why I kept it, except I could not let it burn and I could not toss it away. It meant too much."

"Where is it?" he asked. "I want it back." He pulled away from her and implored her with his eyes to return it.

She shook her head. "It is too damaged to ever be played again…"

"I don't care! I want it back….to remind me." He looked deep into her eyes, begging her to understand. "To remind me to always forgive."

A sad smile spread her lips. Taking the blanket with her, she stood and moved to her clothes press and opened it. She removed a bundle of linen and returned to the bed, climbing up beside him, her eyes briefly darting over his nakedness. She handed it to him.

Unfolding the cloth, he was dismayed to find the flute in such a state. But just like their love, it had not been completely destroyed. It would serve as a reminder to him of what he had nearly lost. Rising from the bed, he crossed to a small table near the hearth and placed the flute upon it. Tomorrow, he would find some roses to put beside it.

Returning to the bed, he pulled her into his arms and held her. "Thank you for forgiving me," he told her. "For loving me. For being mine."

Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers and felt her sigh beneath him. Her fingers traced down his chest and belly and hovered just over his stirring flesh. He groaned, anticipating her touch.

A knock on their chamber door caused them to break apart in surprise. "What?" he asked, frowning at the doorway leading to the sitting room. The knock came again, more insistent.

Giving Cellinn a look of exasperation — she laughed at him — he left the bed, grabbing a robe from his dressing room and hurrying to answer the insistent knocking. Jerking open the door and meaning to chastise whoever had interrupted them, he instead stared, startled to find his father standing there, grinning like a fool.

"Adar?"

Thrandui's grin broadened, if that were possible. "Good to see you finally saw some sense!" He pressed past Legolas into their rooms.

Legolas threw a glance towards the open bedchamber door where he had left Cellinn in naught but a blanket. "Err.. Adar, you really should not…"

Thranduil turned, his eyes shining. "You're an uncle!"

Legolas blinked. From the bedchamber he heard Cellinn squeal with excitement and heard the rustle of cloth. She darted through the doorway a moment later, every inch of her body from the neck down concealed by the blanket.

"A boy?" she asked, her eyes as bright as her smile.

Thranduil's head bobbed excitedly. "Yes. I'm a grandfather!"

Legolas's lips slowly spread into a smile of his own. He had never seen his father act in such a manner. "Congratulations!" He reached out and clasped Thranduil on the shoulder. "Please tell Arandur and Minuialwen we are happy for them." He began to escort his dazed father to the door, planning to show him out so he could return to his wife in their bed.

"Oh no!" Cellinn exclaimed. "We have to go see them!" She turned and shuffled back into their bedroom, shutting the door.

Legolas's shoulders slumped as he realized he would not be making love to his wife again anytime soon. He would have to go see the baby first and pass along congratulations and coo and… He glanced at his father who just stood smiling and rocking back and forth on his heels.

_I will never act in such a manner,_ he thought.

_Wanna bet?_ Cellinn taunted.

He chuckled and went to dress so he could meet his new nephew, determined he would not mirror Thranduil when his children or grandchildren came into the world.

-o-

Arandur held his son, smiling down at him. He was perfect, from the top of his dark hair to the tips of his perfect fingers and toes. Even his tiny ears were perfectly pointed. He placed a kiss on the tiny head.

"Alright, pass him over. It's my turn."

He glanced up as his father strode through the door, Cellinn on his heels followed by a sulky looking Legolas. Arandur chuckled. He could just imagine why his brother had that look on his face, though judging by the look in his eyes, Legolas had not been jilted in all his lovemaking attempts this time.

Thranduil scooped the baby into his arms, and turned to proudly display him for Legolas and Cellinn.

"Oh look at him!" Cellinn exclaimed, peering into the bundle. "He's so beautiful."

"Congratulations," Legolas voiced after a quick glance at the baby. He crossed the room and grasped Arandur's arm, smiling.

Aranudur grinned back. "Thank you."

"How's Minuialwen?" Cellinn asked. She had somehow managed to steal the elfling from Thranduil, who frowned at her, looking quite bereft, his fingers twitching from the loss.

"She's fine," Arandur told her. "She's sleeping now; Naneth and her mother are with her." He yawned. He would love to get some sleep himself. Bringing their son into the world had drained him as well as Minuialwen.

"What are you going to name him?" Legolas asked, taking a keener interest in the baby when Cellinn walked over to him, cooing and making kissing noises.

"Well…" Arandur paused, glancing between Legolas and Cellinn. "That depends. Have you two forgiven each other?"

The couple smiled at one another, exchanging a look so tender, Arandur had no doubt that all had been made right between them. "Yes," Legolas affirmed, love shining brightly in his eyes.

Arandur smiled. "Then I am happy to announce that his name shall be Gohenor — as he shall share his begetting day with your true wedding day."

Cellinn and Legolas both gaped at him a moment, then they smiled. Gohenor gurgled and waved a small fist.

Thranduil moved between the couple. "Your turn is over," he declared, taking Gohenor again. Arandur, Cellinn and Legolas exchanged an amused glance as the King of the Greenwood moved to a rocking chair in one corner and settled himself into it and began to sing.

**To Be Continued...**


	25. Epilogue: Wild Roses of Summer

**Approximately 400 years later**

**Greenwood the Great, Early Summer**

The sound of giggles caused Legolas to lift his head from the blanket. He sat up and gazed across the clearing at the elflings sitting a short distance from them. He grinned and nudged Cellin, who lay beside him, half dozing. "Linn, you have to see this!"

She sat up slowly with a yawn, leaning her head against his shoulder. "See what?" She blinked sleepily and then looked to where he pointed. "Oh my!" She laughed quietly as she took in the sight of the two elflings surrounded by three foals.

The fillies were nibbling at long gold and dark hair and the flower crowns sitting on top of those small heads. The two elflings were snickering and petting the babies, oblivious to the adults watching them. "Oh, Lass." Cellin sighed looking up at him with nostalgia, "Do you remember?"

He smiled warmly at her and nodded. Leaning down, he kissed her. "I remember…" he whispered against her lips. He laid back on the blanket, pulling her down with him, their forms hidden by the tall grasses of the meadow around them. Their kisses were suddenly disturbed, however, by the voice of a child.

"Ada! Nana! Can Haldoron and I each have our own foal?"

With a groan, Legolas sat back up to look upon his young daughter and the son of Ninglorwen and Dúrion standing some feet away. "I believe, Lindaeriel, you will need to take that up with your Daeradar," he answered her with a raised brow. He cringed at the squeal that followed.

"Daeradar gives me anything I want, Haldoron! Come on!" The two elflings raced away towards the King's Halls, leaving the small group of foals looking bereft.

Legolas lay back down in the grass next to his wife, turning to her with a grin, but she was frowning. "He will give the foals to them, you know," she complained. "Your Adar cannot say no to any of his grandchildren!"

He laughed. "I know, but I think she and her young friend are both ready for such chores, and if they should cause some sort of trouble…" he grinned wickedly. "I can remind Adar that _**he**_ was the one who gifted her with it."

Cellinn smirked at him. "Ninglorwen will _**not**_ be happy," she warned. He shrugged, his grin spreading across his face. Dúrion would handle Ninglorwen with ease — most likely by ordering her a new gown — and the two children would have their horses.

"You are terrible." Cellinn said, shaking her head and leaning over him. Her eyes grew heated as she lowered her head.

Legolas pushed himself up on his elbows and captured her lips with his own. Then he rolled her over until he was looking down at her. Her smile turned seductive and her fingers reached up to unfasten the clasps of his tunic.

Legolas blinked. "Here?" She lifted a brow suggestively and reached for the lacings of his leggings. "I love you," he told her hoarsely.

She laughed softly as she made quick work opening his leggings. "You'll love me even more in a few minutes," she declared as her fingers found what they sought. For a long time after that, neither spoke.

The small herd of horses surrounded the two entwined elves who were engaged in their love making, their bodies hidden from view by a small group of inquisitive foals with their flicking tails, and their mothers' rounded bellies, rumps and soft muzzles buried in the sweet grass.

At the edge of the clearing, among the brambles and brush, the first wild roses of summer bloomed.

_End_

**Author's Note**

_**Over The Years** _

In the following years, Arandur and Minuialwen had a daughter followed by another son: Celaireth and Arthon. All three children were born fairly close together, with each having reached their majority before the next was conceived.

As Legolas and Cellinn found themselves in the role of uncle and aunt so soon after their marriage (and loving it), the couple put off having children of their own for many years. Only after the birth of Arthon did Cellinn conceive their first child — a son they named Glassion. He was followed by his sister, Lindaeriel. Tirn Legolasion was born shortly before the Shadow encroached upon the Greenwood. He does not remember the forest before the Shadow fell. He married Gwíllaer in 2075 during the Watchful Peace. Their children are Calennen and Lainel (both also born during the Watchful Peace).

Lainel is Legolas's and Cellinn's only granddaughter. They have no great-grandchildren by the time of the Ring War.

Over the years, the relationship between Arandur and Legolas grew more distant, but in times of need, the two were always there for one another. Minuialwen and Cellinn always remained close friends.

Dúrion and Ninglorwen married five years after Legolas and Cellinn consummated their marriage. They had three children, the second of which was a son they named Haldoron. To the surprise of many, Legolas's and Cellinn's daughter, Lindaeriel, formed a bond with Haldoron that greatly resembled that of her parents. The two married shortly after Lindaeriel's coming of age, thus finally joining Lammaeg's house with that of the king.

Lammaeg remained a mere advisor until he chose to sail West shortly after the coming of the Shadow. He was followed by his daughter and eldest grandchild many years later when Dúrion was killed during the attack of Sauron's forces on the elves of Mirkwood. He was buried with all honors due a kinsman of the king.

In the Autumn of 3019, Legolas returned home from the Quest accompanied by his friend Gimli the Dwarf…but that's another tale entirely.

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**A huge thank you to all the readers who have followed this tale over the years and to the various people who have helped me polish and edit the story. Thank you to my betas of early drafts: nautika, Nea, Wimsey, and various members from GoI. And last but far from least, a giant THANK YOU to my final draft betas: Aearwen and Ignoblebard. Without them, this story would not be nearly what it is. And Aearwen, thank you again for nominating Wild Roses for this year's MEFAs!  
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**It has been a wonderful, and often frustrating, three years in the making, but I don't regret a minute of it. The lessons I have learned about writing while creating this story are invaluable to me. I know my next stories will be far superior for having taken the time to explore Legolas's and Cellinn's story.**


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